


Not Quite Black

by NotYourDamsel



Category: One Piece
Genre: ASL Brothers, ASL Trio, ASL Trio’s Other Brother, Ace Lives, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Akainu Backstory Challenge, Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit, And Be A Shipwright, And Spoils OC, And has Feelings, Another Brother - Freeform, Aokiji is that Dude Sleeping Under the Table, As Expected Of Garp’s Grandson, BAMF!Baccara (One Piece), BAMF!Dragon (One Piece), BAMF!Makino (One Piece), Babies, Baccara the Admiral Minder, Bondage, Bossgirl, Brotherly Bonds, Canon Divergence, Corazon Is Still Clumsy, Corazon lives, Costume Kink, Crossposted in Ffnet., Dirty Talk, Doflamingo Is Actually Human, Doflamingo Is Good, Don’t worry, Dragon Is A Troll, Dragon and Kuma Are Trolls, Dressrosa Doesn’t Happen, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, F/M, Found Family, Future Explicit Chapters, Haki, He Gets A Luffy Instead, He Uses A Different Name, Heart Pirates - Freeform, Het, Idiots in Love, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Innuendo, Insults as a Love Language, Jabra Is A Bad Influence, Kaku Is Just Happy To Have Fun, Kalifa Is Stressed, Kid Also Gets a Luffy, Kizaru Is A Little Shit, Kuma Is Secretly A Troll, Like His Boss, Looking At You Paulie/Rob Lucci, Luffy Is Very Happy, M/M, Making Love, Makino Is Just Chill With It, Mihawk Gets Another Lover, Mihawk Is Surrounded By Idiots, Multi, Nakamaship, No you can’t change my mind, Noir D. Baccara, Not That Boa Would, Not That They Know, OC Marines - Freeform, OMC-Insert, One Piece - Freeform, Or the Longsuffering Uncle in the Party, Other, Rob Lucci Is So Done, Sabo Doesn’t Get Amnesia, Sassy Crocodile Is Sassy, Satin Kink, Self-Insert, Senny Is Stressed, Shanks Is Very Happy, She Has A Hot Gf That Can Kill Her Tho, Slash, Soft BDSM, The Heart Pirates Love Him, They’re Best Girls Okay, Threesome - F/F/M, Threesome - F/M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Uniform Kink, Using Off-Work Time As An Excuse To Not Capture Your Baby Bros, Voice of All Things, When You’re Tryna Be Sexy But End Up Being Teeth-Rottingly Sweet Instead, Why Aren’t Law’s Clowns A Tag?, Yaoi, and Paperwork Hound, and has a big family, babey - Freeform, elements of BDSM, elements of Dom/sub, especially Law, he just needs a hug, insults as dirty talk, oc-insert, one piece fanfic, sex with feelings, sibling bonds, the audacity, updated tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:00:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 59,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27583745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotYourDamsel/pseuds/NotYourDamsel
Summary: Waking up with nothing but a flower in his grasp and a name to go with his face, Baccara struggles to find his footing in a world where sea kings, corrupt Marines, and rambunctious Pirates are the norm. Especially when he’s sure that this was most definitely not his world.
Relationships: Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks/Dracule Mihawk/Makino, Basil Hawkins/X Drake, Donquixote Doflamingo/Noir D. Baccara, Donquixote Doflamingo/Original Male Character, Eustass Kid/Monkey D. Luffy/Trafalgar D. Water Law, Franky/Nico Robin, Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco/Portgas D. Ace, Jabra/Original Femal Character, Kalifa/Boa Hancock, Koala/Sabo (One Piece), Nami/Nefertari Vivi, One-Sided X Drake/Original Male Character, Original Non-Binary Character/Original Female Character/Original Transfemale Character, Paulie/Rob Lucci, Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji, Santos di Pablo/Spider Lily/Sempiternus D. Anastasia
Comments: 169
Kudos: 285
Collections: Into another world, Time Travel and World Travel





	1. Washed Up

Have you ever been rocked by the waves of a vast, temperamental sea?

Not in a boat, laying on a hammock as it swung to and fro along with the ship. Not in a barrel, either, as I would later on find out to be possible. No, I was not fortunate enough to have something to even grasp at as the ocean splashed and moved unforgivingly against my tiny frame.

I remember vaguely the feel of saltwater up my nose and mouth, choking on it more than being able to breathe what little air I could swallow. The way everything around me turned and swayed and circled all at once. I was surprised I didn’t die then and there, since I was frail and defenseless, floating along with the whim of my surroundings—hungry, cold and lost.

It was a miracle I was even alive.

Somehow, I had washed up ashore on an island housing a village with residents kind enough to look after me. And when I woke up, it was to see a white ceiling instead of the various shades of blue the sky often took.

Then a face obscured my vision and I had to stifle down a surprised cry when light shone down my eyes.

“I apologize, I didn’t know you were conscious!” The doctor(?) fretted, wrinkled hands waving frantically around as he closed the light abruptly. He was old, grey strands overtaking what seemed to be previously black hair, and the corners of his dark eyes had accumulated crow’s feet to further signify his age. He wore a white coat normally seen on doctors and had a little white hat bearing a red cross in the middle.

“Where?” I rasped, immediately feeling the need to drink something that was not from the sea itself. Carefully, he helped me sit up and fluffed the pillows I was lying on so that I could lean comfortably. Handing me a glass full of clear water, I took small sips in fear of tasting salt, before downing it in one go.

“To answer your question, you’re in Foosha Village at Dawn Island,” he answered, but I couldn’t help but blink blankly at that. Foosha Village? Dawn Island? Was there seawater still stuck in my ears? 

Perhaps catching my perplexed expression, he elaborated on where the island was located (somewhere called East Blue, apparently) and looked increasingly worried when I showed no signs of recognition to he names and historical facts he mentioned.

“Oh, dear,” he muttered, lips pursed. “You seem to have amnesia. Tell me, do you remember anything at all? Your name, perhaps?”

Clamping my mouth shut, I bit down my first answer and furrowed my eyebrows. From what I could gather within my short time fully awake, it was already clear that places like England and America were unknown—maybe even non-existent, which was a whole different league of plausible insanity that I was normally subjected to (monkeys high on helium whilst barbecuing crocs was apparently the worst of my life experiences, believe it or not).

Dimension hopping? Parallel universes? Possibly _reincarnation_?

It hurt to even think about it, and a migraine had already made itself home on the space between my eyes.

Clutching my head with both hands, I bit out a harsh, “It hurts.” And it wasn’t a lie. The migraine turned into a searing pain spreading all over my brain, like a white-hot pole was slowly being inserted through every space available and I wanted it to stop because it hurts **sO mU _ch—_**

With a whimper that I felt more than heard, I fell asleep.

* * *

I dreamed of my life Before. Before the water drowned my entire being and spat me out in a world like no other.

I was a genius child gifted with a high IQ of 207 despite being merely six years-old, and my foster family was overjoyed at the prospect of having a prodigy as a son.

They doted and spoiled me to bits, buying all the latest gadgets they could purchase from their pooled allowance, and I was hard-pressed to get them to stop—to tell them that they didn’t need to lavish me with fancy knickknacks and toys. But every time I tried to get them to do otherwise, they’d pat my head and coo about how thoughtful and sweet I was, and _you really are a special child, aren’t you, Baccara?_

Baccara. That was my name. When the matron of the _San Isabela Orphanage_ found my basket outside in the cold winters of February, the name Baccara was lovingly stitched on my blanket, the lone proof that I was indeed at least remembered by my absent parents.

I gained my name from the Baccara Rose, an artificial flower with its petals being the closest shade to black humanity has ever achieved, and with it the meaning of the plant’s symbolism: _**Undying hope**_. Hope that people would one day reach the goal of cultivating a Black Rose.

They said it was fitting that I was named as such, how a truly gifted boy was already destined for greatness long before he could even speak or see.

It was discouraging, the way they held me up a pedestal.

Children my age either sneered at my fame and intelligence, or joined the majority of going gaga over my supposed greatness. The latter was only mildly better compared to those that wouldn’t hesitate in using me for their own gains, never mind that I was but a child. The only few who didn’t regard me like a god were the servants that attended to my personal needs—Holly, who served me food alone to lessen any ‘distractions’ from my ‘studies’; Carlos, who was more of a bodyguard than a butler; and Granny Esmerelda, who had raised me and taught me all there is to know of my origins.

You see, I was taken in by a rich couple who couldn’t sire their own flesh and blood, both of British descent and high social status. I had been confused at first to discover that, instead of paying a surrogate to carry their own seed, they had flown to a small countryside in Mexico to adopt. It was during my third birthday party that I realized my original purpose: an accessory to boost their reputation as ‘kind’ and ‘benevolent’ to the masses.

It was only an added bonus that my mental capacity was above than average.

I shied away from the memories that presented themselves before me, of days spent in a study with nothing but the four walls and ever-present books to keep me company from morning ‘til night. 

The loneliness was too much for my child self to bear, so I did what I thought best at that time: dissociate. 

Of course, during that time, I had no knowledge of what dissociating means. Nor did I notice I had dissociated.

It started with lapses of memories, usually during large parties and programs, and it was soon followed with depersonalization—feeling disconnected from my own body, as well as rare bouts of derealization—feeling disconnected from the world around me. It alarmed those close to me, leading to Holly nearly calling an ambulance before Granny Esmerelda took over. She had ordered her to instead fetch me a bowl of warm porridge before turning to a grim-faced Carlos and told him to guard the door outside my room. He was also under no circumstances to allow anybody but the three of them in and out my private chambers, which raised protests from both my foster family and the children who were ordered to ‘befriend’ me.

When word got out that I was imitating a hermit living in seclusion, my parents spun a tale about how I was near a ‘breakthrough’ and asked to not be disturbed. The media ate it all up, making theories about what my so-called experiment entailed faster than the speed of light, until an explosion happened.

After that, my memories were fuzzy at best and flashes of colors at worst. There was the sensation of being carried by somebody running, and whispered assurances near my ear. Then the dream faded to the backdrop of waves and seawater and the oxgyen leaving my lun _Gs—_

Then I woke up, staring once more at the same white ceiling that first greeted me in the Land of the Living. The only difference was the absence of the doctor who treated me and, strangely enough, a Baccara Rose held tightly on my right hand.

More than a little confused, seeing as I had no recollection of picking up the flower I was named after, I twirled it between my thumb and forefinger, noting that it held no thorns and that its bulb was still partially closed. Its dark petals were certainly eye-catching, and when I took a whiff of its scent, I felt weirdly at ease and… nostalgic.

Before I could ponder more about the mysterious flower that had suddenly appeared, the doctor came back, followed closely by a hunched old man wearing a patterned hat and shirt reserved for tropical areas. He had a cane supporting him with each step he took, round glasses, and a severe-looking expression that bellied his worry as he took in my appearance. 

“This our washed-up brat?” he asked rhetorically, masking his concern with a gruff tone. Then he noticed the rose in my hand and asked, “What’s that?” 

Following his line of sight, the doctor became understandably nonplussed. “Where did you get that, little one?” Then he gasped, and hurried on, “Did you remember something from your past?”

Weighing the pros and cons of telling the truth, the answer was quite obvious if I wanted to be able to use my knowledge to the best of my ability without drawing any unwanted questions.

“Enough for me to not want to go back,” I murmured, eyes trained on the rose held up by my hand. I pretended not to feel the sorrow and pity that they exuded, and continued, “May I stay in this village? I can help out to earn my keep.”

“Focus on getting better first, you little brat,” the hunched old man (the mayor, perhaps?) retorted, as if dealing with amnesiac kids washed-up from who knows where was a natural occurrence in his life. Maybe it was. He seemed old enough to have seen lots of things. “Then we can talk about jobs and whatnot. I better go and ask around if anybody needs a pint-sized helper…” And with one last look that practically told me to stay put, or else, he left.

Feeling marginally better than before, I played with the Baccara Rose before tucking it behind my left ear.

* * *

A few days later, the village doctor—one Dr. Sterling, which was a surprise since the village mayor’s name was Woop Slap, of all things—had deemed me fit to move around like a child my age would, and I was given a place to stay in his attic when I expressed my wish to learn more about medicine from him. 

Flattered and glad (and I quote, _“We can never have too much doctors here!”_ ), the aging doctor had freely given me all of his medical tomes and notes, testing my understanding by the end of each week via showing me unnamed herbs and asking me what diagnosis I should give in hypothetical scenarios (one of which included an amnesiac pirate, an apparently common event especially during storms).

When I wasn’t poring over the pages detailing plants and illnesses beyond my imagination, I was acquainting myself to Foosha Village and its residents, most of who were kind enough to humor my questions. One of the most memorable persons I’ve met was a teenage girl with fair skin and green hair, whose hazel eyes shone with determination whenever I asked a particularly dizzying question—like _why is East Blue considered the ‘weakest’? Why is the Lord of the Coast not killed yet? Why is Mt. Colubo inhabited by bandits?_

Ms. Makino was by far the kindest I’ve had the pleasure to meet. I guess it didn’t hurt that she reminded me greatly of Holly, especially with her eager-to-please but quicker-to-snap-when-needed attitude. It would serve her greatly when the time comes for her to inherit Partys Bar, since bar-frequenters were usually the unpredictable bunch. She had joked that nothing short of a Tenryūbito (people who didn’t deserve to be even considered as such) would faze her, and I supported her wholeheartedly while putting in an idea or two on how to use the items in her bar as instant-weapons. My favorite one so far was the Flour Bomb that I had thought of regarding a past flour mill explosion that had killed at least twenty people Before.

Ms. Makino had thanked me and took my unnatural knowledge about explosives in stride. And that was the moment I was sure that even a Yonko would bow down to the greatness of Ms. Makino.

(In the near future, I would look back at this thought of mine and nod to myself. Indeed, Yonkos have no power whatsoever as soon as they stepped in Partys Bar)

My new life here in Foosha Village was peaceful and nice, definitely better than the one Before.

Then of course, a certain Marine had to come and flip things upside-down.

* * *

Marines are this world’s version of law-enforcers: with white sailor uniforms and an indomitable will, they follow their sense of Justice and protect the helpless people from their sworn enemies—pirates. Anyone of high-ranking can be distinguished by their white coats with the _kanji_ of Justice on the back (and that tidbit had thrown me in a loop. It seemed to me that Japanese and English are equally used over here…), coats that are rumored to be impossible to be taken off by mere wind unless that Marine wearing it does no longer believe in their Justice.

The Marine I met today was far from the image the newspapers had painted for me, and Monkey D. Garp was said to be The Hero of the Marines. The man closest to Gold Roger (or was it Gol D. Roger? The papers were never clear about that), the biggest and baddest of all pirates: the esteemed Pirate King who had started a new era by simply challenging the whole world in searching his most precious treasure—the _One Piece_.

(I’ll admit, even I felt a bit starry-eyed when I read about his last words. He had the charisma no mere king could exude, and his words had me nearly hopping on the nearest boat to set sail)

Instead, what I saw was an old seadog who had spent far too much time underneath the sun, surrounded by nothing but the vast blue waters and loyal fans too afraid to correct him. Because his idea of letting the Dadan Bandits raise his own grandson was surely a sign of senility getting ahead of him. Or I’d eat my lab coat (given to me by Dr. Sterling five months after my arrival. It had these humungous pockets that could store loads of stuff!).

“No,” I couldn’t help but cut in, stepping out of the bushes that I had been hiding behind throughout the whole conversation (which was quite one-sided, since Garp had this look on this face that Ms. Makino had whenever she said no more beer means no to the more stubborn customers). Sure, following a seasoned Marine into what was clearly the mountain bandits’ home base was new ten levels of recklessness, but leaving a baby into the hands of people I couldn’t trust not to drop him the second they carry him while knowing where he is?

Yeah, _no_. Not on my watch, _mis amigos_.

They seemed surprised to see me appear out of the foliage, though Curly Dadan and Garp seemed to hide it better than their companions. I was sure I looked exotic to them. Here I was in all of my six year-old glory: wearing no armor other than a too-large white lab-coat over a simple shirt and shorts combo, a red neckerchief bearing a white cross on the side resting on my collarbones, worn out sandals, with my shoulder-length black hair tied in a messy bun and a small snakeskin pouch crossed diagonally over my chest, holding all the necessary things a medicine kit would need and more.

And glaring. Don’t forget the glaring.

“How did you get here!?” A bandit resembling a rooster sputtered, and I decided to withhold my questions regarding about his genes to instead focus on showing my displeasure to the Marine with my eyes.

Continuing from my previous statement, I said, “You will not be leaving a newborn under the care of the mountain bandits, Mr. Garp.” I barely resisted the urge to growl. When he showed no signs of relenting, I pressed on, “How are you so sure that they would even look after him after he’s done growing up?”

“Well, since I’m sure Impel Down is a pretty awful place, then they have no choice but to make sure that my grandson will grow up healthy and strong.” He… he wasn’t kidding. He was absolutely serious about letting criminals take care of his grandson by threatening them a one-way trip to the worst underwater prison. Like that was going to end _splendidly_.

He then proceeded to pick his nose with his pinky (… was he really a Vice-Admiral?), and turned the tables on me. “Besides, what does a little brat like you know about what’s good for my grandson?”

“Since I’m technically the second doctor in Foosha Village, I do know what’s good for your precious grandson.” I smiled, as sweet as poisoned honey. “And I know that, as Dr. Sterling’s protégé, newborn babies are better off in the hands of their _family_.”

“His parents are dead,” was the blunt reply. Like that was going to stop me. “And you being a doctor? Hah! Is this what kids these days are doing? Playing pretend?”

He was taunting me. Making me angry enough to make a mistake, or pull the I’m-an-adult-I-know-better card.

Unfortunately for him, I’ve been swimming in the shark-infested waters of politics before I could even walk.

“And what are Marines these days doing? Depending on criminals to do their obligation of taking care of their own flesh and blood?” I parried back, making sure my tone was as flat as I could manage in my high-pitched voice. I could faintly hear someone stifling down a horrified squeak at my daring, but I wasn’t done yet. “Or is the great, heroic Garp too important to even look after his own grandson after his parents have died, _hm_?”

He flinched, only noticeable because I was looking for it, and I felt a rare sense of vicious satisfaction at his reaction. Good.

We could have gone for hours arguing about the living condition’s of the babe, if it weren’t for a short bandit wearing a pink and black polka-dotted jumper speaking up hesitatingly.

“How about you check up on the kid weekly?” He flinched when three (the other one being Curly Dadan’s incredulous stare) sets of eyes quickly snapped down to his form, but he went on while vaguely gesturing in the air. “I mean, if you’re so worried about him, then why don’t you do a weekly check-up? You can come up the mountain every Sunday, look over the kid, and see if we’re doing a good job at raising him. Besides, you said you were the other doctor down in Foosha Village, right?” At that I nodded. “Then you need to be available for the villagers too, since it’s your job and all.” 

Protests were soon aired, the bandits not liking how a ‘pipsqueak’ was going to be invading their hut and that they had to take care of a baby, while the two leaders were silent—one with shock and the other in thought.

“Alright,” Garp finally agreed, a finger absentmindedly playing with the now-awake babe (how he slept throughout the argument was a mystery). His abrupt return in the conversation made several mouths clamp shut, the bandits remembering who exactly they were dealing with. “So the tiny doctor over here will be visiting weekly to ensure that my grandson is safe and sound.” He nodded to nobody but himself, as if reaffirming it in his mind, before he handed me the swaddled bundle of joy without so much of a how-do-you-do.

“I’ll be visiting as well, but not as frequent. And if I ever see a scratch that’s not from training or hunting, well. I’m pretty sure I can make some space for you guys in Impel Down.”

Ignoring the crotchety old man, I peered down at the babe’s wide, ebony eyes that blinked back at me curiously. Faint freckles dotted his cheeks like little stars, and I idly traced them like one would do to constellations. The baby apparently found this ticklish, because he let out peals of pure delight and a smile made itself known on my face.

(I didn’t notice the way Garp was looking at me strangely, eyes clouded with a knowing depth that scared even the bandit leader) 

* * *

Little Portgas D. Ace was a blessing, and nobody can ever tell me otherwise.

He was large for a one year-old, already outgrowing his onesies in an alarming rate, and he downed his formula milk like an alcoholic would to beer after weeks without the beverage. 

Garp had commented that, since he was a D. (and what that implied, I had no idea), it would be prudent for Ace to have as much as meat and water on hand, and I had outright snarled at anyone that didn’t wake up at two in the morning to feed him whenever I slept over in Dadan’s hut. So what if he needed four-five rounds of milk? _He’s hungry._

Dogra, the short bandit who had suggested me to visit weekly, had given me a dagger on my second visit. He stated that every person available was to hunt dinner and that included me now (for the unforeseeable future, much to Dadan’s dismay), and I had gamely agreed and brought back as much as meat as I could.

I learned very quickly that this world’s definition of size was: tiny, small, child-sized, medium, large, huge, and _monstrous_.

(Running away from tigers that could easily rip you in half was not how I imagined my forest visit to end. On another note, Dogra had also given me a saber for longer reach, all the while apologizing about not informing me of the mountain’s other occupants)

The saber’s blade was slim and long, glinting silver underneath the light. Its handle was black and hooked to lessen the chances of me losing my grip, and the grooves where fingers should hold were strangely comforting. Maybe it was because of the fact that I wasn’t as defenseless as before? Granted, I did have a dagger, but close-combat with a six-footed tiger was ill-advised.

Dogra had been pleasantly surprised when I showcased a well amount of aptitude in my given weapon, and had deemed me fit to hunt on my own after three days.

I was downright giddy when the animal I first crossed paths with was the same tiger that had chased me away, and the grin on my face wasn’t wiped until I came home with its dead body dragged behind me.

(Strange, since when have I started calling this rowdy bunch of law-breakers home?)

Dogra had been beside himself with puffed-up pride, and Magra—the one who eerily resembled a rooster—had broken out the drinks to celebrate my first successful hunt.

Ace, too young to understand but always ready to join in, had congratulated me by yelling out his first attempted word, “‘Ra”. And I know it was silly to feel so happy that I actually cried (and the bandits had panicked), but Ace was quickly becoming the center of my world and his freckled face had slowly become my favorite sight to see.

“Are you happy too, Ace? Are you?” I asked, carrying the baby against my hip as he reached out for the stray leaves that had joined me whilst fighting the tiger. I was pretty sure a few twigs were present as well, if Howell’s snickers were anything to base off on. “Are you happy that ‘Ra came home, or because ‘Ra brought more meat?”

While he cheered “‘Ra” endlessly on that evening, his appetite had honestly answered my question. 

Oh, well. So long as he grows up well, I have no qualms.

* * *

The years went by quickly that I had but a second to wonder where they had all gone when a little ball of energy slammed onto my back.

Rocking my heels in a motion that bellied how often this had happened, I turned around and grabbed the attacker before he could slip away from my grasp.

“ _Aha_! What’s this?” I held up a five year-old Ace underneath his armpits, who mulishly glared at me while fighting down a grin. He was clad in a green shirt with the kanji of ‘Youth’ paired with brown shorts and well-used sandals, and a bandage had already found its way underneath his left eye. “A little kiddie attempting to assault a doctor? What ever shall I do?”

“How about you put me down, ‘Cara!” he ‘demanded’, but it came out more as a whine. I raised an eyebrow at his rudeness, and he pouted before complying, “Can you _please_ put me down?”

Making a show of thinking about it, I waited until Ace got fidgety enough to squirm around. Then I let out a “Nope!” before carrying him over my shoulder, turning a blind ear to his protests and continued scaling up the mountain.

Five years hunting animals with sizes only seen in (previously) fictitious dimensions had led me being more toned and muscled than the average eleven year-old, something that has helped me greatly in wrestling down hyperventilating patients (since Dr. Sterling was too old to deal with the more ‘energetic’ ones) and pirates that had no idea what no touching the barmaid meant. My saber, which I had dubbed as _Stratus_ because of its blade and lightness, was a very effective method of showing those bastards that I wasn’t kidding when I told them that I knew every vital point in the human body to end them.

(There was even this one time when a low-class pirate had shat his pants, screaming “Demon!” before running back to whatever ship he crawled out of. It was funny)

That incident led me to learning more about the criminals that sailed in the seas, asking Garp (who had somehow adopted me as another one of his grandsons. Why and how, I didn’t know. Nor do I think I want to, since I had no paper trail) for bounties both old and new, all the while pestering him about which pirate was infamous for which, where they usually sailed, and _what the fuck was a Devil Fruit?_

I kid you not, that was my reaction to Devil Fruits, word for word. Unfortunately, I was at Partys Bar when that particular slip-up happened, and Makino (who had told me to remove the ‘Ms.’ two years after my arrival) had boxed my and Garp’s ears when she heard that, before disappearing for a day to yell at the bandits because where else was I supposed to pick up curse words?

( _Hell hath no fury a woman scorned_ , indeed. Even Dadan was impressed by the sheer gall Makino had. The bandits were still flinching whenever I so much as tried to curse, making me wonder exactly what Makino had threatened them with before deciding that some things were better left off unanswered)

So, Devil Fruits were apparently nasty-tasting fruits that could grant you powers in exchange of taking away your ability to swim, which sounded shady to me because there had to be a reason why ‘the sea loathed those who had made a deal with the Devil’. Maybe something chaotic and gruesome happened in the past that was caused by Devil Fruits?

Anyway, there were three types of Devil Fruit-users (Paramecia, Logia, and Zoan. Personally, I liked the Zoan-type ones best. If only for the surprise factor and possibility of communicating with animals. Like, how cool was that?), and other than water, seastone and something called _haki_ were the only known weaknesses of these so-called Devils.

Of course, this led to another spiel of explaining in Garp’s part what _haki_ was, and when he mentioned something called Observation Haki, I blurted out that I could kinda, sorta, maybe do that. For a while now.

(When I proved that, yes, I have been using Observation Haki for years without my knowing to keep track of Ace and the animals while hunting, Garp had this long-suffering look on his face before looking up skyward with a mutter that suspiciously sounded like, _“Damn pirate scum”._ I had no idea what to make of that, so I pretended to not hear him while ‘looking’ around me with my now glowing, amber eyes)

Ace thought that my eye-glowing trick was cool, since my original silver eyes were too boring (I raised an eyebrow at that, distinctly remembering that when he was two, he had called those ‘boring’ eyes twin moons), while Woop Slap nearly had a heart attack when he walked in Partys Bar to see me staring at him before he even got within my line of sight. He said that I was like an hawk, or a “predator watching its prey”.

Dadan had been smug in a way only a bandit leader could pull off, stating that I was more than ready to take on the humungous-sized animals now.

Speaking of Dadan, she was holding up a newspaper when me and Ace entered, and her head snapped up lightning fast before hiding it away.

Curious but not in the mood to pry, I instead turned to Dogra as Ace somehow managed to situate himself on my shoulders.

“Heya, Dogra. Care to tell me why Ace wasn’t patient enough to wait for me here in the hut?” _Why weren’t you watching him?_ Was left unsaid, but he knew that while I had a cheat to know where everything and everyone was, I still felt the need to surround my surrogate brother with people capable of defending him. Even if they were bandits.

Dogra had that pinched expression on his face that said how annoyed he was so early in the morning (did one of the newer bandits steal Dadan’s sake again or what?), before answering, “I don’t know. Brat came back from Grey Terminal and had been switching from being clingy to snappish.” Then he stomped away and, judging by the sharp shine his weapon gave off, he was probably going to release his anger on the trees nearby.

A little worried, because the last time Ace had been snappish enough to anger Dogra was when he was a toddler and that diaper rash were equal parts of painful and irritating, I gently carried the boy in question off his perch and held him near my chest.

“Are you going to tell me why, Ace?” I asked, not forcefully. Never forcefully, because while he was my little brother and he adored me in return, he valued his independence and freedom to act the way he wanted. And as long as nobody got hurt, I would let him be.

Resting his cheek on where my heart would be—an action that usually meant he needed comfort, stemming from my frequent carrying him while humming lullabies half-remembered from when Granny Esmerelda sang for me at his age—he mumbled, “Maybe.” And that was that. No one was going to be able to get an answer out of a sullen Ace. Nobody would even think of it.

Resisting the urge to sigh, I merely walked around the forest while singing _Lavender’s Green_ underneath my breath.

* * *

Later that evening, Ace fiddled with his blanket before quietly, slowly crawling into my lap. Like he was afraid I would reject him, never mind that we’ve been doing this nightly routine ever since he outgrew his crib, and my worry turned into a cold anger. Anger that, somewhere I couldn’t reach, some fucktard made my little brother become unsure of himself and I wanted him to scream underneath Stratus.

“What would you do—“ he cut himself off, visibly collecting himself, and I ran my fingers comfortingly on his messy, black locks. I stored away my murderous thoughts for later (because I will find that motherfucker, one way or another) and made a neutral sound at the back of my throat. “What would you do… if the Pirate King had a son?”

Outwardly, I was still combing his hair with my fingers, expression placid and body language relaxed.

Inwardly, I felt a surge of despair and vicious loathing to the world at large. Because I’ve seen Gol D. Roger’s bounty. I’ve seen the way the dead man’s grin resembled Ace’s so much, and from what I knew about Garp’s time as a Marine, he had met Roger far too many times to be merely enemies. Rivals, perhaps. And it would explain why Ace was under his care in the first place, why he thought that mountain bandits were better parental figures than a Vice-Admiral loved by the masses. 

Because the world would scorn and turn its back on my little brother the moment they knew about his lineage, and I was powerless to do anything about it.

Mentally noting that Garp would be answering some questions on his next yearly visit (and he will be answering them, or so help me because I have no reservations in asking for Makino’s assistance), I focused on the boy in my arms and answered,

(Because he was only a boy too young to know about reality’s cruelness, brimming with potential that would burn out as soon as he questions his right to exist. His right to live and he was only a _boy_ —)

“Well, I’d ask him if he was feeling alright, because I’m a doctor.” He stiffened, no doubt imagining the scenario in a worse way. “And then, because I have a little brother of my own, I’d ask him if he wanted to come home with me. If he doesn’t, then I’ll visit to make sure he stays healthy. If he does, well. The more the merrier, right, Ace?”

I didn’t have him look me in the eyes to know that I was sincere, that I meant every word that left my mouth because there was no need. Because my little brother was already muffling his cries on my shirt, hugging me like I’d disappear if he ever let go.

I wrapped my arms around him and nosed his mop of hair, singing Granny Esmerelda’s own lullaby.

_My dear, do you know what love is?_   
_Do you know the feeling of peace and bliss?_   
_My dear, do you know what love entails?_   
_For I love you and every moment without you is pale._

_My dear, do you hear the birds singing in the sky?_   
_Do you hear their joy as they dance and fly by?_   
_My dear, do you see the stars in both day and night?_   
_For I watch over you always even when out of sight._


	2. Oh, Dearest Sea

It said a lot about how tired Ace was when he didn’t even stir once I slipped out of his slumbering grasp, and while I would’ve cooed at his adorableness in any other day, I couldn’t even muster the energy to reach for the snail camera Garp had given me for occasions like this.

Frowning at the thought of that old seadog, I shook my head sharply and exited my and Ace’s room, taking care not to step on the seventh floorboard to the right, lest I wake up anyone on the false pretense of there being an intruder.

Say what you may about the Dadan Bandits of Mt. Colubo, but there was a reason I felt comfortable enough to only warrant a weekly visit opposed to a daily one.

As I creeped about within the dark halls of Dadan’s hut, I mentally recited the Periodic Table by order, and only stopped when I was a good few meters away.

Alone in the deeper parts of Midway Forest, I inhaled the crisp evening air deeply and brought a fist backwards: thumb above clenched fingers, lowered beside my hips and—

_(“What would you do… if the Pirate King had a son?”)_

—with a _crunch_ I barely felt, the tree in front of me toppled over at the absence of its middle.

I looked down blankly at the result of my punch, something I was forced to learn upon Garp’s insistence if I wanted to be a fine Marine, and my vision suddenly blurred.

Me? A Marine? A Marine who works for the World Government—the very same people who would kill my little brother with nary a thought all because of his damned blood?

The same people who followed the _**Tenryūbito’s**_ every beck and call?

I didn’t notice the air around me shifting slowly, oozing outwards like invisible waves. My mind was still stuck on the fact that Ace was never going to be able to live a peaceful life, not unless he continues hiding but he wouldn’t do that. Oh, no. 

Portgas D. Ace? Hiding?

Unthinkable.

And there was still that issue in Terminal Grey (one that I will take care of, and _Stratus_ will partake in), as well as the chance that I may not be the only one who knows of Ace’s parentage. Perhaps Dadan knows? Maybe even Woop Slap, since I wouldn’t put it past him to simply do as Garp wishes, especially when it concerns his village.

Rubbing my face roughly, and nearly dislodging the rose still tucked behind my left ear, I let out a sigh entirely too heavy for a normal eleven year-old to release. 

Walking towards the broken stump I had a hand in doing (hah, pun), I slumped down against it tiredly and looked up at the moon.

The sky was devoid of any clouds, showing a multitude of slightly faded stars, and the moon was imitating a smile—almost as if it was laughing at my misery.

I was never really good at handling sudden problems, especially those that involved what few people I held close to my chest. Holly, Carlos and Granny Esmerelda (and I refused to let the sharp pang of loneliness be anything but momentary) could handle their own problems, being the adults they are. The same could be applied to the majority of my… friends here, be it the aging Dr. Sterling—who was by no means a pushover, or Makino—who was well on her way to being the most badass barmaid there is despite being only three years older than me.

But Garp had drilled into my head the sheer power and sway the Tenryūbito had over the World Government, how the world both despised and loved the late Pirate King for a number of reasons that were true and not. And while he had went through unfathomable lengths to hide the child of his old rival, going as far as to raise him amongst bandits in a secluded area where no one would even think of looking, I just knew that it wouldn’t be enough.

Chewing my lower lip, I felt my knuckles for any scrapes (and was perplexed when I found none) almost absentmindedly, and decided to sleep for now.

Interrogating Garp can wait for tomorrow, when I’m in a (hopefully) better mood.

* * *

  
I was not in a better mood. Which, to be honest, is not at all that surprising.

As soon as I was done with my morning routine (cuddling Ace awake, taking a bath with him, hunting with him—though only using my dagger, fighting over breakfast, etc., etc.), and promising Ace to spar later in the afternoon, I went down to Foosha Village and power-walked towards the quaint building bearing a red cross on its front: the one I had lived in for the past five years.

Dr. Sterling’s residence was a simple two-story house. With the clinic occupying the ground floor, the second floor holding the kitchen and one moderately large room, a small yard with flowerbeds (daisies this time, how lovely) adding some color from the outside, and the attic which was the haven of yours truly.

Sprinting over the stairs, it was easy for me to slink into my room with none the wiser. Granted, Dr. Sterling was busy with a patient or two—must be Gyoru, if I heard right. That stubborn fisherman just won’t listen to us or even Chicken!—but I’ll take what little achievement I can get. My room was small, but I’m proud to say that it wasn’t dreary at all.

In one corner was my bed, which is quite literally a nest of blankets and pillows atop a comforter reminiscent of a _futon_. To its left were rows upon rows of books, stacked on top of the other and ranging from those trashy romance novels Makino liked (and I was too kind to refuse), to the medical textbooks Dr. Sterling had procured for me. Garp gave me some medical books as well, most from the Grand Line while some were from a place in the North Blue called Flevance. On the slanting ceiling above me were fairy lights hanging randomly in this way and that, which was a gift from Makino’s mother when she mentioned that I was staying for good.

Then there were some knickknacks scattered about—usually the shiny stones that a younger Ace had gleefully given me, or really anything that he could get his grubby little hands on. Stratus was tucked neatly on my bed, left behind in my hurry to leave yesterday, and I made a note to clean him before going up the mountains again.

Ignoring all of these things, I headed straight to my book collection. Carefully moving the third tower from the right, I picked up the white-shelled Den Den Mushi sleeping behind it, and dialed the only snail number that I knew. It took a few rings (the Den Den Mushi’s _purupurupuru_ filling in the silence), but when the telltale sound of _cacha!_ Broke the tense air, I wasted no time in demanding the Marine to come back this instant.

Of course, said delusional old man laughed and joked about how I must’ve missed my ‘grandfather’, to which I replied with a threat of telling Makino who exactly stole the beer from the storage one February night three years ago.

Needless to say, it was the shortest snail call I’ve ever had the pleasure of having.

* * *

It wasn’t even two days later when yet another dilemma made itself known to myself.

This time, a rather proud but confused-looking Jeffrey had bought the news. And it was quite… well. Surprising.

“Two boys have been sighted wreaking havoc in Edge Town?” Dogra repeated. “And one of them matches Ace’s description? You’re positive?”

Jeffrey, a blonde, stout man with a penchant for wandering around with his hands snatching everything small enough to fit his pockets, nodded. “Fer sure it’s our brat. Unless there’s an’ther black-haired, freckl’d kid with ‘eyes like ‘ta Devil ‘imself’ lives ‘ere in Mt. Colubo!”

Magra shivered, likely at the horrifying image it presented (highly unlikely, I know the forest like the back of my hand. And my range is rather wide as well…), but I was a bit stuck on the fact that my five year-old little brother is beating up people with another kid around his age.

From the looks of Dadan’s lack of drinking at the moment, it seems I wasn’t the only one having a hard time believing it.

Later, when Ace returned, it was to the expectant stares of nearly everyone present in the Dadan Bandits, and the attention was… well, not really ill-received?

“Whaddya looking at?” he grumbled, eyes darting towards one face to another. The pipe strapped on his back was new, and most likely his makeshift weapon taken from Terminal Grey. A part of me was proud of his choice of a mid-ranged weapon to add to his brawling expertise, but I was still a bit unsure of this new… hobby, of his.

“Well, we were just wondering if you beat up those thugs at Edge Town yesterday?” One brave soul decided to bluntly ask, not bothering to sugarcoat it or beat around the bush like Mogra would.

Ace pursed his lips, brows becoming heavily furrowed and he answered, “Yeah? So what if I did?” His shoulders were becoming tenser with each passing moment, feet shifted away from the hut, and it took me a minute to place what I was seeing—

Oh. Oh, _Ace_.

“We’re not mad at you, Ace,” I intervened, and the way his startled, grey eyes (and how happy he was when his eyes lightened. How happy he was when he found out that we looked _alike_ ) snapped onto my form within the speed of light made my heart ache. “We just wanted to know why you beat them up. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Yeah, Ace! Tell us about your first fight!” Jeffrey hollered from somewhere within the hut. And it was like a dam was broken—people were asking about details, making bets on what weapons both party used, and more than once I could see various bandits clapping my sweet, perplexed little brother in the back, saying something about ‘how fast they grow up’. And I think I could hear a few sniffles muffled behind hankies and hands.

“Y-You’re not mad?” Ace asked, and a round of laughter rang from all around.

“Mad?” Dadan echoed his last word, snickering between her cigarettes. “We’re mountain bandits, brat! What right do we have to be mad? In fact, I’m surprised you didn’t do this earlier!”

“Hear, hear!” Another shouted, and whoops of joy erupted from this group of misfits that I just absolutely adore. 

Right now, Ace might not accept himself just yet. But that’s okay. So long as he’s not alone…

That’s okay.

* * *

When we’re preparing for bed, he tells me about his partner-in-crime: a kid wearing a noble’s clothes missing a tooth, Sabo. 

He tells me how he first saw him, how he yelled at him to ‘fight and survive’, how he uses all of these difficult words that I sometimes use, and how they’re business a-sso-ci-ates now.

He tells me about his first friend, of their plans for the future.

He tells me about how they’re going to be pirates.

That they’re going to be _free_.

(And his words remind me of another little boy, a little boy who was trapped in a glass cage and put on a high pedestal, and I can’t help but wish just for once that I could move mountains and part oceans for him. For little Ace, my sun, my moon, my stars)

That night, as a new fire burns behind Ace’s eyes with dreams of surpassing his father and making the world know his name, I made my decision.

* * *

The next day was cloudy, and heralded the visit of a familiar Marine ship.

Monkey D. Garp hadn’t changed for these past few years. At all. Sure, his hair may have been more peppered with white more than before, but he was still the same wild, grinning old seadog that I had first met and bumped heads with.

“So, what’s so important that you had to actually call me, squirt?” he groused, but the grin on his face erased any image of his anger, and I quirked a small smile at the minuscule similarities he shared with Ace.

“Let’s go talk at Makino’s, I’m craving for a drink,” I said instead, turning on my heel and walking away without waiting for a reply. A huff of amusement followed my announcement, and Garp amicably walked beside me without making much of a fuss. Strange… Usually, he would needle me into calling him ‘grandpa’ or something within the same vein, or preach about joining the Marines because I was his ‘grandson’. I wonder what put him into such a good mood.

When we reached Partys Bar, a few regulars were already in their preferred seats, and most waved at us in familiarity. Garp, because he lived and grew up here; and me, because of my infamy as the Demon at the Bar, which isn’t really all that intimidating. I’ve heard better from the bounties.

“The usual?” Makino asked, more of a formality than anything, once we’ve seated behind on the stools facing her, and a grunt of affirmation was all she needed before smiling and working her magic.

“Ace made a friend yesterday,” a good conversation-starter, truly. Garp laughed, all wide-mouthed and coming straight from his belly. If there was another thing that I appreciated about him was his complete disregard of deception or politeness. Refreshing for someone who’s had to wade through the seas of politics and greedy vermin. 

“Did he now? Tell me more!” And I did. But vague and offhand, explicitly telling him that no, you are not allowed to investigate more about this poor child, and by the time that Makino returned with out orders (fruit smoothie for me, beer for Garp), the atmosphere was much more relaxed and warm.

It almost made me regret dropping this bomb on Garp. Keyword being almost.

“Ace is actually six, isn’t he?” I mused, mixing the contents of my drink with the straw it came with. Eyeing Garp, who was chugging down his mug like nobody’s business, I waited for the right moment before adding, “since it’s been six years since his father’s death.”

The way he spitted out his mouthful was almost beautiful, in a gross sort of way.

I should have bought my camera.

“What?” He muttered, before narrowing his eyes and intoned in a volume only I could hear, “You know about his parentage, then?”

Staring straight into his eyes, I replied, “About how people wouldn’t think twice about killing him? Yes.”

He flinched, a nearly invisible thing for anyone who didn’t know him, and I ignored his reaction by bulldozing ahead with, “Train me.”

Once again, Monkey D. Garp’s brain did a double-take and a U-turn.

“Huh?”

Taking a sip of my drink and watching him stew in silence from the corner of my eye, I smiled pleasantly at Makino’s inquiring look and continued, “You wanted me to be a Marine, did you not? Well,” I opened my arms like one would after presenting a particularly clever trick onstage. “Here I am, accepting your offer wholeheartedly.”

If he were any other old Marine with a penchant for adopting kids as their grandchildren, he would’ve guffawed and celebrated. But he was still a Vice-Admiral, one who has experienced things thought to be impossible to get out of alive, and you don’t survive an encounter with the esteemed Pirate King with using only your fists.

“In exchange for what?” 

I felt more than saw the way he stiffened at the frost I made sure to appear in my eyes. In any other situation, I wouldn’t dare attempt anything like this to a government official with a high ranking. I wouldn’t even dream of speaking against anyone with power other than to say yes and praise their accomplishments.

(But this wasn’t about surviving in the world where money and power rule your expendable lives. No, this was about my little brother and the blood running in his veins—)

“You’ll turn a blind eye when a certain someone sets sail under a jolly roger, and leave me with monitoring the Blues until I’m strong enough for the Grand Line.”

(—this wasn’t about Baccara, the perfect son and renowned child genius.

This was about Portgas D. Ace, my little brother)

With all the tiredness of a war-worn soldier having seen the cruelness of the world, he agreed.

* * *

He stayed for a week, running me through tests and forcing me to complete training regime straight from hell.

He made good use of Mt. Colubo’s terrain: the crocodile-infested river was used as a route for agility and reaction-time, the rocks ranging from as high as a small hill to as low as a boar’s height were used for footwork and stamina, the trees were used for a more deadly version of Hide-and-Seek (aptly named Hide-or-Die), and the animals that roamed the Midway Forest were making themselves scarce lest they be used as ammunition for my dodging exercises

At one point, Dadan had outright confronted Garp why the hell I was coming home covered with bruises and bumps not from hunting (a rare occurrence, since they were usually scared of him), and while Garp laughed it off and sent her home nursing new welts on her head, there was a satisfied and approving gleam in his eyes that made me feel a bit better.

I’m not alone. And even if I die or fail, I’m not the only one that loves Ace.

(Now if only he could see that as well)

“That’s enough for today,” Garp says seven days later, standing over my gasping, lying form on the uneven grass of the wild. The sky was painting its colors a pretty mixture of pink and orange, so different from the sky I had always seen five years ago when I was at the seas’ whims, and a question escaped my lips before I could censor it,

“Why you?” My voice asked, small and ragged with shallow breaths. “Out of all of his crew, why you?”

There was no need for more context, no need for thinly-veiled titles and accusations. Just a simple question, needing a simple answer. How nice must it be to live in such a straightforward world.

“… because it was something no pirate would do.” Garp’s face was unseen by me, whose eyes were watching the dark blues meet with the pinks and make a cool shade of purple. “It was something no parent would do, entrusting their unborn child to their nemesis.”

“Rivals,” I absent-mindedly corrected. “You two were rivals, as he was with Whitebeard.”

“And how can you be so sure?” he questioned, mostly because he had nothing to add. I looked at him then, tilting my head to the side. I saw Garp’s wrinkled face littered with laugh marks and graced by a scar that would kill a normal man. I saw a Marine who was still capable of sinking pirate ships and throwing cannon balls like one would to stone. I saw an old man who lived life with no regrets and laughs at the insanity of the world.

I saw a grandfather who was trying his best and wanted what he thought was safest for his precious grandchildren. I saw a man who had lost a good friend and comrade of the sea.

I saw Monkey D. Garp, the Hero of the Marines. And Garp, the grandfather of Portgas D. Ace and I.

He was correct—I _had_ no way to be sure of my theories. Theories with no proof whatsoever, other than the thoughts of a six year-old whilst reading through old newspapers and listening to his ramblings about the Grand Line.

But there was something there with how he worded the question. As if he was asking a whole other thing entirely, and I was briefly at a loss of what to say. But then I thought of how Ace clung to me as I woke up before he even cried out in a nightmare, of how no predator can outwit or outmatch me even in their own territory, and wondered…

Was there anything in this world that can’t be _too_ far-fetched?

“I just do,” I answered instead, and took vindictive glee in the baffled expression on the old man’s face. It suited him far better than a serious frown. “Can you tell me about his mother instead?”

There was a sound that came from the back of his throat, a bastardized combination of a growl and a whine, before he relented and told me about Portgas D. Rouge, resident freckled beauty of the Oro Jackson and certified BAMF (Bad Ass Mother Fucker, if Gregory was to be believed).

He told me how she met with the Roger Pirates, in an island filled with flowers as far as the eye can see. He told me how she came falling from above, clad in a pristine blue dress with a red hibiscus tucked safely behind an ear. He told me how her fair hair was pink in the light and peach against the sunset, how her ebony eyes were warm as it were dark, how freckles dotted her cheeks like stars.

He told me how I reminded him strongly of Rouge, how I was as cunning and strong-willed as she was. How Ace frowned and wrinkled his nose just like she would when Roger or Shanks did something foolish, before laughing behind a dainty hand. He told me how Buggy would butt heads against the now-Yonko, one wearing a beloved straw hat and the other recognizable with his colorful makeup. He told me how Rayleigh would look skyward as if asking for patience to the higher powers (and how an island called Skypiea existed in a cloud so wide it was a whole other world), before pulling rank and scolding his reckless captain.

He told me about the men behind the bounties and the crimes, about the laughter and the parties and the many drinking contests he experienced under the hospitality of such wild, free pirates.

And I wondered, in the back of my mind as Garp regaled about the time when they joined forces to defeat a common foe, if Garp was still alive and well, were there others still out there?

Were they still waiting for a sign? Still looking for their captain’s lover and child? Or have they given up hope? Retired? Imprisoned in the bowels of Impel Down?

One thing’s for sure, though. Pirates, Marines… there is something more than what meets the eye of the World Government.

It was only a matter of how big it was and if it’ll affect the people I care about.

(With a location burned on the forefront of my brain, I went to bed with a lullaby for Ace and aches for company)

* * *

I meet Sabo a few days after Garp left, saying something about ‘talking to Senny’ and ‘clumsy kid’ or whatever that was.

He’s a little boy with bright hair and wide, blue eyes filled with a desperate need to know. His clothes had clearly seen better days, and with a quick rummage in my old closet, I had procured enough clothes to last him a few weeks before having to go to Makino about restitching some of the neighbors’ clothes. Perhaps Woop Slap may have some from his youth?

“Y-You didn’t have to bother yourself!” he’d stuttered, still shy and hesitant in the little room we have in the bandits’ hut. “Really, you didn’t have to!”

“Ah, but I wanted to, little one.” I grinned at the embarrassed flush on his ears and cheeks, and Ace didn’t bother hiding his snickers at his friend’s predicament. With a glare that was more for show than anything else, Sabo refitted his goggles-clad top hat on the top of his head and smiled.

“Thank you for the clothes, Mr. Baccara,” he said with a tiny bow. I laughed and returned the action, deciding to do a curtsy with my lab coat at the last second.

“Oh, no. The pleasure’s all mine, Sabo.” 

“Ah, but I was the one who—“

“Please, it was no problem—“

“But I _must_ express my—“

“Oh, would you two **_stop_** it already?”

Me and Sabo (who I was slowly suspecting of being a runaway noble, if only for his mannerisms and speech) both turned our heads towards our irate ravenette, before bursting into helpless fits of giggles at his less-than-amused expression.

Needless to say, Sabo had my approval. And who knows, maybe he’ll achieve his dream of writing a book of his travels and show the others what was truly factual and not propaganda.

* * *

It’s with a persistent _purupurupuru_ that I woke up on a sunny Tuesday, and the news that Garp decided to greet me with were ominous and… strange.

Quickly donning my shirt and shorts ensemble, I unhooked my lab coat from a nail on my room’s wall and strapped my snakeskin pouch securely across my chest, Garp’s words ringing in my head as I slid down the stairs and slipped on my sandals.

_“A ship will be docking on the cove ‘round the back. I’ve told him many times that’s it’s okay to drop anchor at the port, but he’s a stubborn one.”_

_“He’s hurt, but that’s not the important part.”_

I reached out for my surroundings, ‘seeing’ the windmills that gave Foosha Village its name, the trees looking dreary in the false morning’s sky. 

_There_ , near the cove as Garp had said. At least a dozen people or so on board.

_“There’s a child there, and he’s worryingly ill.”_

As I broke free from the forest line and saw the white sand with waves lapping on the shore, I saw a ship that was dark and clearly fresh from battle. Ignoring the details I saw (dark green, damaged deck, missing a cannon or two, sails are hardly seaworthy, the word Revolu on the side before a chunk was removed by something like a slash), I waved wildly from my perch on a stone, and was relieved to see someone conscious enough to wave back.

When the ship was close enough to safely drop anchor, I didn’t wait for a rope ladder to be thrown and used my recent training and experience in the mountains to jump from the slopes on the sides of the ship and landed safely on the railings, startling a man—the one who waved back.

“I’m a doctor sent by Monkey D. Garp,” I explained before weapons were drawn, holding up my arms to show that I had no firearm or sword in my person. “He told me that there was an emergency patient on board. Where?”

Wordlessly, the man briskly walked towards below deck, and I paid no mind to his less the friendly demeanor.

“Are there any more injured?” I asked once we reached the makeshift infirmary which used to be the mess hall and kitchen. There were bandaged men from all around, some missing limbs and others knocked out by anesthesia to numb the pain. Blood was everywhere, both fresh and dried.

It was horrifying, but nothing I haven’t seen before.

“No, this is all of them,” he replied, before continuing his journey, taking care not to step on a comrade and sometimes stopping to help patch one up. I assisted as best as I could with my limited first-aid pouch, giving vitamins and antibiotics to fight the germs, reminding them to clean their wounds before changing their bandages, and followed my guide.

In the lone bed covered with blankets and the only IV drip that survived whatever fight they had was a large man with a blood red tattoo going down his left eye. His hair was spiky and long, like a lion’s mane, but the bags underneath his eyes gave away his exhaustion, and he was cradling something in his—

“May I?” I asked, taking out a stethoscope that I had managed to fit in my pouch. The tattooed man looked at me blankly, as if not really registering my presence, before nodding slowly. I approached the duo near the side, urging him to unwrap the blankets so I could see the child better, and I nearly lost my composure at how thin he was.

“How long has he been like this?” I inquired, burying my emotions underneath a professional mask, distancing myself from the situation because he was so _thin and young_ —

“—or three days or so,” the man who had led me said, looking distraught and worried. For who, I could only hazard a guess, for both (father and son, perhaps?) were in an awful state. Nodding to show I heard him, I quietly told him to move the less seriously wounded outside, and wrote a quick note to deliver to Dogra for some supplies he could snatch for me.

It was hard and tedious, being the only abled-bodied medical expert, and from the way Garp worded his call—the less people who knew about them, the better.

The sun was halfway up the sky when I was done, double-checking the bandages and each patient’s symptoms were finished, and the people looked a lot livelier now that they weren’t half a step in Death’s door.

“Thank you,” the man who guided me said, looking much younger with a smile on his sea-worn face. “Truly, you have no idea how much you’ve helped us,”

“I was merely doing my job,” I replied, for it was true and how could I turn my back on people who needed my help? “You’re still not out of the woods yet, mister. Especially the child. He’s severely malnourished and needs a lot more than baby formula to survive this event.”

He cackled then, so unlike the weary sailor that was ready to kill me if I so much as moved the wrong way, and I was about to smile at his liveliness when something he said made me stiffen.

“Of course we know no milk would ever sate him! He’s a D, after all!”

A D? Of all of the people I would meet, it was another D?

Narrowing my eyes, and remembering the harried tone in Garp’s voice over the Den Den Mushi, I took a leap and asked, “I think you mean Monkey D..”

He nodded, no doubt knowing full well the consequences of meeting one who shares the same last name and initial, before freezing and—

“It’s alright,” a deep voice came from behind, and I nearly grabbed for Stratus before remembering that I left him at the attic, and spun around in a loose stance.

The tattooed man stood there, dark cloak hiding his injuries and the perked up babe in his arms, and a smirk made itself known in his face. 

“I’ve heard about you from my father—“ _wait, what—?_ “—and I’ve come to ask you a favor.”

“What favor?” I decided to focus on the last part, mentally adding yet another question that willy-nilly Marine would be answering on my list, and while it hadn’t been long since Ace himself was a baby, I bit down the urge to swaddle the awake boy with the fluffiest blankets I could find (they’re in Makino’s room).

“I am Monkey D. Dragon—“ what kind of fucking name is that? “—and this is Luffy, my son.”

As if knowing that we were talking about him, little Luffy cooed as he played with his father’s scarred fingers, blabbering about baby gibberish that inwardly made me melt.

“You already know what I do.” It wasn’t a question, and I knew what he wanted me to accomplish.

Sighing gustily, I brushed away my fringe and fixed The World’s Most Wanted Criminal the very same glare I gave to his father five years prior, and vowed, “If you ever miss a single birthday of Luffy’s, Garp finding out your secret island would be the least of your problems, Revolutionary.”

A sharp grin overtook his rough face, and it was so similar to Garp’s in a jaded sort of way that I couldn’t help but become exasperatedly fond of this man whom I’ve just met, and he promised, “If I ever stop staying in contact, I’ll tell one of my men to send a boat for you to save you the trouble.”

Barking out a sudden laugh, I shook my head and kicked him on his shins. It was a testament to his willpower that he didn’t react outwardly, since my kicks were powerful enough to dislodge a boulder twice Garp’s size. “I’ll hold you onto that, Dragon.”

Then, because I still can’t get over with this world’s weirdness, asked, “Is your name really Dragon?”

Judging by the long suffering look on his face, this was not the first time it was questioned.

Safely tucked against his chest, Monkey D. Luffy squealed.

* * *

**BOOM! THREE MAJOR CHARACTERS ALL IN ONE CHAPTER! WHOOP!**


	3. Storm in a Teacup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a guest reviewer asked me what their ages were in the current storyline and here it is:
> 
> Makino: 14 (she helps around the bar w/ her mom)  
> Baccara: 11  
> Ace: 6 (since Rouge carried him for 20 months)  
> Sabo: 5  
> Luffy: 1 (hasn’t had his birthday yet)
> 
> Trigger Warning: Uh, panic attacks?

Here’s the thing about panic attacks: they’re different for each people.

Not all people would suddenly start shaking, muttering underneath their breaths as they stare into nothing and everything at all. Not all people would be rocking to and forth, clutching their ears and whimpering with their eyes screwed shut. Not all people would take fast, hasty gulps of air while sitting perfectly still, nails pressing red crescents in their palms.

Not all panic attacks look like panic attacks, and not all triggers can be prepared for at the drop of a hat.

Some are gradual, slow processes where the person can still be shaken out of it with the right words and actions. Some are instantaneous, with every second life-altering and important for the person and those around them.

Dragon’s belonged to the former. And even then, I (nor anyone at that matter) didn’t notice anything was amiss until it was too late.

It started with the clouds.

Grey, smothering clouds rolling in out of nowhere, covering every inch of the blue expanse up high.

Nobody thought of it as noteworthy; cloudy days exist, after all. Or maybe an early shower was coming. Better get the laundry then.

Quaint, peaceful Foosha Village had its fair share of storms and typhoons. Even one memorable tsunami, what with it being the sea-faring village it was. Through it all, the people have persevered and come out of every natural disaster victorious, with only broken houses and upturned trees and crops as collateral damage from the harsh weather’s onslaught. 

But this storm was different. Oh, it was very different indeed.

After the surprise visit from the Revolutionaries three days ago, majority of them have been relocated in Dr. Sterling’s clinic and were recovering along swimmingly. The minority (aka, those that would be recognized either from hearsay or bounties), on the other hand, were smuggled—yes, smuggled. And no, I don’t want to know how Dennis learned that particular skill—quietly in Garp’s vacation ‘cabin’. Which was actually a four-story version of a dainty log house nestled between the forest of Mt. Colubo and the ocean’s shoreline.

The place itself was kept clean by a paid marine squadron or two (usually rookies, or just some poor schmucks who had their asses handed) every other month, and the Revolutionaries currently taking residence were finding the irony of the situation very hilarious indeed.

Other than a weekly check-up (and dropping in every two days or so to fuss over those with worse injuries), and having some food and clothes delivered to them via the Dadan Bandits (“We’re not a fucking delivery service, kid!”), they were settling in quite well and so far haven’t attempted to run away on a rowboat. Yet.

Of course, I can’t say that all of them were perfect patient-material.

Jeremiah—the one who had waved at me and led me to the father-son duo—was particularly twitchy about syringes. And thermometers. And basically any medical equipment that frankly boils down to ‘stick this on patient, wait for results’. Granted, there had to be some history here, but if I had to tie him down on his bed with leather belts to get his blood samples then leather belts it is.

Another was the now-amputee named Carl. He was nice enough: answering questions honestly, tolerant of my poking and prodding, would sometimes smile and wave back with his lone hand if we’d cross paths, and all-in-all a good patient.

Now, if only he’ll follow the diet plan I made for him, it’d be great.

The final headache was the big man himself.

“Dragon,” my voice was sweet. Saccharine even. It only showed how much patience I’ve had left for this shit. “What are you doing on the windowsill?”

The man in question was looking at me blankly, as if he had no idea what I was talking about with one of his legs thrown on the other side of the window, bandaged hands grasping the upper portion of his current escape route. His IV drip was conspicuously lying limp on his hazard of a bed, and from what my clipboard was telling me, the leader of the Revolutionary Army was in no way leaving the room until a week or two.

It hasn’t stopped him. God knows what would stop a D. on a mission. Let alone a Monkey D..

Mentally counting backwards from the twenties, I walked closer to where he was and crooned, “Do you want a Garp-free week of recovery or not? Because I’m sure he’s more than happy to keep his son company while—“

In between two blinks, he was back on his bed. IV drip on, blankets covering him from his chin to his toes, and face every inch of a grudging pre-teen. I should know. It’s the face Ace makes whenever Sabo wins an argument about whether or not the North or South Pole was colder than the other. Or whatever topic they’ve stumbled upon.

Sighing, I tucked a strand behind my ear and asked, “Now, was that so hard?”

The look he gave me was just a centimeter leaning into a pout. That should not look adorable on a middle-aged man hellbent in overthrowing the government. But alas, it was.

Shaking my head, both at his antics and to clear my head of any nonsensical thoughts, I gave him a routine check-up and was pleasantly surprised to see no further damage despite the strain he was putting his body through.

As if sensing my thoughts, he grinned.

“That still means no leaving the room, Dragon.”

And the pout was back. Honestly, this family.

Shooting him a small smile, I decided to throw him a bone and said, “Makino’s going to visit later. Without Woop Slap, for once.”

That made him perk up, and the tension finally left his shoulders. It was only natural, since Luffy had been given to Makino despite many protests. For while it would be best to keep them together, I’d be able to sleep better at night with the knowledge that there was someone who could run for help if anything happened to Luffy’s fragile condition.

His malnutrition was remedied quickly enough, but there were still some lingering fear of the one year-old not surviving the night, and Dragon had relented with the fact that nobody in the vacation house was prepared (either mentally or physically) to take care of a child. 

My work here done, I left (after some none-too-subtle threats regarding about one certain Marine Vice-Admiral) with a hum reminiscent of a sea shanty I’ve heard from somewhere, unaware of the disaster that was going to befall on Foosha Village.

* * *

The next sign was the thunder—ominous and heard from a distance.

“It looks like it’ll be a big one,” Makino idly noted, sorting through the recent delivery of fruits with skilled hands. I shrugged, half of my attention locked on remembering when was the last time Ace and I had sparred (was it five days ago? No, I was resting from Garp’s training during that time…), while the other half was occupied with entertaining the hyperactive baby in my arms.

While Ace was plenty active and ready for a game or a dozen, Luffy was a ball of energy high on caffeine with his default babble consisting of happy-screeching and giggles.

Case in point, this was the sixth time he had tried to grab the rose behind my ear, and I couldn’t be even mad at him because he genuinely seemed curious of the strange plant in contrast of his destructive, slobbered fingers.

“Perhaps,” I said in lieu of answering directly, trying to figure out how far I could lean backwards without breaking my back. A soft laugh escaped the barmaid, no doubt seeing how ridiculous I looked as Luffy continued trying to nab the Baccara Rose, and I resisted the urge to give her the stink eye.

Finally growing tired, the small (too small, much too small) babe nestled his head at the crook of my neck, gurgling about something or the other with a tiny fist holding my front. My neckerchief was already unsalvageable, having fallen victim to Luffy’s saliva, and my doctor’s coat was thankfully hung in my room and far, far away from drooling babies and their evil gums.

A few minutes of swaying side-to-side, whilst humming Granny Esmerelda’s lullaby like I would to Ace, and the youngest was peacefully asleep.

This close, with Luffy pliant and slumbering, I had all the time in the world to pick up the nuances of his chubby face. How one of his eyes had a mono-lid, his lashes thick and long, with the soothing smell all babies had mixed with the salty tang of the sea and sunshine enveloping my senses.

“Would you mind teaching me that song?” A voice suddenly spoke up, and I startled from my observations to look at Makino. 

She was watching me—us with a fond expression on her youthful face, a hand cupping her right cheek as her free arm wrapped itself around her middle.

“The song,” she continued, hazel eyes softening as they shifted their focus to the little wonder on my chest. “Luffy sleeps better after listening to that song. May I learn it, too?”

I stared at her, understanding fully well what she meant. With the way she worded her sentence, it was clear that she was asking for permission and wouldn’t mind being turned down. No doubt, she picked up on the fact that the song was foreign. Possibly forgotten by the world, or an original composition only I knew.

I remember her asking where I came from, her being nine to my then six after a few months had passed since my first arrival. I had brought down Ace, swaddled safely on warm blankets and held together by a makeshift sling. It was not the first time I had sang Granny Esmerelda’s lullaby, but it was for Makino.

 _“What’s that song, Baccara?”_ she had inquired, head tilted. _“I’ve never heard of it before. Is it from your home?”_

I remember deflecting her question with ease, switching the topic to something about the bar and how’s it fairing. And Makino, still a child and more than eager to gush about her mother’s specialty, had forgotten about the song entirely.

Now, she was asking for it one more time. Asking for a little piece of home that I’ve had left and I… I find myself lacking any reason as to why I should refuse.

So I taught her.

Sitting on a crate of dried goods and absentmindedly stroking Luffy’s hair, I began singing the words that had put me to sleep with no fail despite the weight of the world’s expectations on my shoulders. And Makino—gentle, sweet Makino—listened avidly as if every line was a piece of history nobody knew about. And in a way, it was.

As the sky darkened and wind started to pick up, it was only the three of us and Granny Esmerelda’s dulcet echoes.

* * *

It was with a _zap_ running down my spine that I woke up, eyes blown wide and hand reaching for Stratus to fight whatever foe had made me raise my hackles.

The familiar wood of my room calmed me somewhat, but there was a niggling sense of urgency that nagged my brain.

Reaching out with my _haki_ , I was nearly blindsided with the amount of sheer force that metaphorically seared my ‘eyes’.

Heart thudding strongly against my ribcage, I sprinted downstairs and managed a glimpse of the chaos happening outside the clinic, before I hightailed it towards Garp’s cabin.

Unnatural gusts of wind threatened to push me back, making my shirt ride up and my shorts fail at keeping me warm. The sandals protecting my feet were of no use, and it was with nary I second did I abandon it for better leverage against the freak weather I was facing. Moments like this reminded me why hair reaching past my shoulders were more trouble than what it’s worth, and I can only thank whatever illogical logic the rose on my hair had for not flying away because I had no time to waste in searching for it. 

After what seemed to be a lifetime, I reached the threshold where the Revolutionaries were pouring out in various states of disarray. All but one.

“Where’s Dragon!?” I shouted against storm’s noise.

“At the middle of it all!” Jeremiah screamed back, brows furrowed as his blonde locks stuck itself on his face. Brushing it off roughly, he added, “He probably had a night terror! And his Devil Fruit’s acting out because of it!”

_Shit_.

Devil Fruit users were unpredictable on a good day, but Devil Fruit users who were semi-conscious of what they’re doing?

Worrying my lower lip, I quickly calculated the pros and cons of calling Garp to handle the situation, and threw caution out of the proverbial window.

“Find shelter in Dadan’s hut!” Was my bellow. Angling my body so that I could dash inside without worry, I finished before diving into the warzone, “I’ll handle this.”

Whatever protests the Revolutionaries had were drowned out by it all.

* * *

The ground floor of Garp’s vacation cabin was spacious enough to hold three, cushy sofas surrounding a moderately large fireplace, with potted plants adding more to the homey feeling, and a rug was snuggled firmly on the middle of the floor. Bookshelves filled with books ranging from navigation to the latest edition of _Sora Warrior of the Sea_ were lined up on the wall, accompanied by a coat stand and a place to keep umbrellas.

Now, it hardly resembled a solid room at all, with papers and glass shards and loosened wood flying about in a mockery of a hurricane. Bracing myself, I ducked low as I ran towards the stairwell, keeping a firm grip on the railings which I soon had to abandon as that too fell victim to the unforgiving gales. Gritting my teeth, my eyes burned with tears from the abuse as I kept my Observation Haki on.

The second and third floors were in similar amounts of disarray, the previously comforting furniture and objects turning into deadly projectiles that threatened to behead me more than once, and I resolutely reminded myself to thank Garp for drilling evasive maneuvers on my training when he visits next time. Going through hazardous course from human-made nature itself, I find my goal on his knees in the middle of his room with a hand clawing his face as the other was embedded deeply onto the wooden floor.

“Dragon!” My cries were more likely to be heard from the next island over with the amount of wind circling him. I dared not to approach, feeling more than knowing that if I did, I’d be ripped to shreds.

But I couldn’t just stand here, either. With every passing moment lessens my chance of getting Dragon to come back to his senses. Looking wildly around, I search for something that would shield me from the wall of breezing blades that blocked my way and found none. Feeling frustration bubble up from my chest, I squashed it down and closed my eyes.

Silence. Think, Baccara. Assess the situation. What do I know about my objective?

Monkey D. Dragon: Leader of the Revolutionary Army, most likely to be skilled in haki (highly probable to be a Conqueror), an apparent Devil Fruit user suffering from a panic attack, and is injured with third-degree burns on his arms, three bruised ribs, a dislocated knee and a sprained ankle.

What’s the source of the problem?

_Unpredictable usage of Devil Fruit abilities, as well as Dragon’s panic attack._

What are the possible alternatives I could take if approaching him is unavailable?

_Finding out the trigger of his panic attack and calming him down, and—_

My eyes widened, and I’ve never felt as much as an idiot as I did at that moment.

_Haki_! Of course! You dunderheaded _**fool**_.

_Armament Haki_ was the type of _haki_ used for defense and offense, allowing the user to hit Logias and for Paramecias to become normal humans when made contact. It would also forcefully make Zoans revert back to their human forms, and can be used to make mid- and long-ranged attacks capable of hurting them.

Garp had tried to teach me how to unlock my _Armament_ , but other than a minute-long sheen of _something_ covering my fist, I hadn’t been able to progress as well as I had with _Observation_.

But there wasn’t any time for me to practice, and with Garp’s voice instructing me to use your will to harden your skin and wield it, I jumped into the eye of the storm.

* * *

Garp had told me that _haki_ was the manifestation of one’s will, but it was more than that.

It didn’t only rely on a person’s determination, it relied on their stamina (both physical and mental, from what I’ve observed), their experience, their self-esteem, and their reason.

When using _Observation Haki_ , a person was willing themselves to see more than what the normal could not. It felt like closing your eyes and seeing flashes of colors moving about beyond your eyelids, with shapes both definitive and not, letting out waves of emotion that would make an empath recoil from their mere intensity.

It was like using a UV-ray flashlight and seeing the hidden messages left behind, experiencing imprints from those who had made their mark and imbued it on objects and even the air. Like watching the words from a book come to life, painting scene after scene as if you were there.

 _Armament Haki_ was like strapping on armor and adjusting the straps, like a comforting weight behind your back. It was like wearing feather-light obsidian on your skin, the black sheen smooth and without cracks. Like a suit well-worn and loved, an extra layer that shielded you from the world and made you feel invincible.

With arms and legs shining a dark gleam, I shouldered through the wall and nearly bowled over Dragon’s still form.

Standing at the center, I was free from the Revolutionary leader’s defense mechanism, and crouched down in front of him as slowly as I could manage.

“Dragon,” I started, making sure my voice was calm and steady. No response was given, with Dragon’s face still half-covered and tilted downwards, visible eye dull and unseeing.

Breathing evenly through my nose, I pushed forward, “Your name is Monkey D. Dragon.” Still no reaction. Risking my hand, I placed it on his shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. “You are the leader of the Revolutionary Army, son of Monkey D. Garp, father of Monkey D. Luffy.” A twitch. Barely noticeable if it weren’t for the fact that I was half a meter away from him and holding him.

“You’re currently on the fourth floor of Garp’s vacation cabin, on Dawn Island in East Blue.” A finger folded, soon followed by the rest. Moving my left hand to his face, I moved him so that he was facing me and gently pried off his hand.

“You’re safe,” I intoned, putting all the sincerity and calm I could. “Your men are safe—Luffy is safe.” Another twitch. So the cause of the panic attack was Luffy, huh? Or rather, his wellbeing. “He’s a ray of sunshine, you know? Always with a smile on his face and eager to meet new people.” The light was returning to his eyes, and I could vaguely hear the storm outside finally settling down. Good, he’s coming back, now.

“You’re safe from whoever your enemies are here, Dragon.” Weighing my next words, I said, “Garp wouldn’t let them, Dadan and the bandits wouldn’t let them, the villagers from Foosha wouldn’t let them. And I most certainly won’t let them hurt my newest brother, nor you, Dragon.”

He was registering things now, and when his eyes finally zeroed on my form, I smiled.

“Okay?” 

During the entire dilemma, my Observation Haki was on, and it was because of that that I wasn’t surprised to hear a timid, “Baccara?” sounding from the wrecked doorway of this room.

Looking over my shoulder, I beckoned Makino over and took a fussy Luffy from her grasp. I could feel Dragon’s gaze tracking my every movement, and raised an eyebrow at her in silent askance.

“He woke up as soon as the storm grew worse, and he wouldn’t sleep mo matter what I did,” she informed me, sounding absolutely heartbroken that I had to chuckle lightly at her tone.

“It’s alright, Makino.” I stared down at Luffy, whose chocolate brown eyes were watery with unshed tears, pursed lip wobbling. “He must’ve wanted his dad. Right, Luffy?”

As if understanding what I’ve asked, Luffy turned his tiny body towards his father’s direction, pudgy hands flailing and failing to reach the blank-faced Dragon. He was looking at Luffy as if he didn’t believe he was there (didn’t believe that he was _alive_ —), and I helped him hold his son securely in his arms.

With all the innocence only a child could have, little Luffy traced the stubble on his sire’s chin, and that was all it took for Dragon to curl inward and muffle his cries on Luffy’s head.

I should leave. Leave and let the two have their private moment as Makino seemed to be doing, from the way her body was facing the doorway. But leaving felt wrong, so I wrapped my arms around the two and ran my fingers through Dragon’s mane, humming my lullaby underneath my breath.

* * *

“I’m going to join the Marines.”

It was a sunny day outside, a stark contrast from yesterday’s weather, and people were taking advantage of it to the fullest.

Beside me, Dragon was holding Luffy whilst entertaining him with a rattle from Ms. Joan’s infancy, and he didn’t give any outward reaction to my announcement other than the slightest of shifts of his leg.

We were taking shelter underneath the shadow of a windmill—Old Man Seamus’s, if I remember correctly—with a picnic blanket underneath us. There was a basket filled with goodies from Makino on the side, and with Ace and Sabo busy with collecting their pirate fund, I was free to spend the whole day with the Monkeys.

“Why?” He finally asked, and I relished over the fact that it held no judgement, only polite curiosity and slight bemusement.

Leaning backwards on my palms, I looked up at the cloudless sky and answered, “Because it’s easier than being a pirate. It has rules and guidelines on how to be a Marine while a pirate…” I gestured vaguely on the air, earning a huff of laughter from the older man.

It was true, I never really did like things with no concrete answer or instruction. And other than the randomness that is the life of a pirate, I don’t quite fancy having Marines chasing me just because of my flag. It would make visiting Ace and the others harder, too.

“Why not become a Revolutionary then?” Dragon offered, as if he wasn’t asking me to join a life of secrecy and sabotage. “Kuma can make a guidebook for you if you want.”

Snorting, I glanced to the side to see a playful grin on his lips, and smacked him lightly on his upper arm.

“As much as I’m tempted to keep an eye on you, I’d rather be able to actually come and go as I please.”

Dragon hummed. “You’re planning on gaining a high position then?”

“Of course,” I easily confirmed. “Vice Admiral—and only that.”

Because Vice Admirals had more freedom than most Marine positions, and while they had to answer to the Admirals and Flee Admiral himself (somebody called ‘Senny’, if Garp was to be believed), it was better than being underneath the Tenryūbito’s every beck and call. 

Besides, I could deal with politics even in my sleep. The ‘leading people to their collective deaths if you fuck up’ part has me a bit leery, but I’ll figure that out in the future.

Sailing in the ocean without a set goal, though? No, thank you.

(And maybe I still can’t go to the ocean any deeper than my knees, maybe the waves pushing my body back and forth still make me freeze.

But that’s alright, because fear is a normal response to trauma. And Garp promised to teach me Shave and something called Moonwalk)

“Garp says he’ll let me join officially when I’m sixteen.”

“And unofficially?” 

I played with the edge of the picnic blanket, and replied, “He’s been training me since I was eleven after finding me in his home island. I won’t be taking his last name, no matter how much he tries to appeal to me the protection his name has. It’s too much of a risk, especially with Luffy.”

Speaking of Luffy… I looked at the baby in question, who was gleefully chewing the now-acquired rattle in his hands with vigor, and wondered…

It was obvious that Dragon won’t be able to be with Luffy all the time, and the same applies to Garp. Makino would be busy with the bar, the bandits aren’t exactly kid-friendly (softies that they are), Woop Slap was old and managing the village, and Dr. Sterling isn’t exactly free with time as well.

While I still have five years to watch and take care of Luffy, who would pick up the slack when I’m inevitably shipped off to Marine Headquarters? They certainly can’t leave Luffy to his own devices and expect him to survive, let along have a happy childhood…

But who would—?

“Oh,” I let out, and felt a grin growing on my face. Spotting Dragon’s inquiring gaze, I eagerly turned to him and asked a question that made his eyebrows raise close to his hairline,

“What do you think about Luffy having more older brothers?”

* * *

Sabo knew about Ace’s big brother—Baccara, what a strange name—has even met him once or twice.

He was polite and well-spoken, enough that Sabo wondered more than once if he was a runaway noble like him as well, and had the kindest eyes he’s ever seen with the most beautiful rose tucked behind his ear.

(“Moon-eyes,” Ace had whispered once, as if he was sharing the secrets of the world. “He has moon-eyes, y’know? But sometimes they’re like the sun, too. And when his eyes glow gold, he can see everything.”)

He was also very intelligent, if the fact that he was considered as the village’s second doctor despite being only eleven years-old said anything, and incredibly strong too. Sabo’s seen him hunt one time, when Ace had convinced him to tail his brother to see ‘something awesome’, and he had to admit that it was awesome. Watching Baccara effortlessly slay three wild boars the size of a hut was awespiring.

Other than that, Sabo doesn’t really know anything about the young doctor. Sure, he knew that his saber’s name was Stratus, and that he has a nice voice when singing (mentioned by Ace more than a few times), and also the fact that he can scare Ace’s grandpa into submission was an impressive feat (Sabo doesn’t know, he hasn’t met this ‘Shitty Gramps’ yet). 

Outside of Ace, they never really had anything in common. So when Baccara approached him one day while he and Ace were scavenging some wood to hide their treasure better, he was understandably flummoxed.

“Hello, Sabo,” he greeted, hair down for once and coat nowhere in sight. His neckerchief was still there, though. “How are you?”

Blinking, Sabo said the first thing in his mind, “Uh, good?”

Resisting the urge to kick himself, Sabo felt his cheeks burn in shame and embarrassment, and only turned redder at the sound of Baccara’s amused giggles.

Yes, giggles. Sabo never really believed Ace when he said that Baccara giggled, since girls only do that, but apparently he does and gosh it sounds cute.

Wait, what?

“Good, hm? How’s that fund of yours coming along?” Throwing that weird thought away for later, Sabo focused on the other’s question and scrambled for a decent answer.

“It’s okay,” he said. Then added, since it sounded too curt and rude, “We managed to nab a few jewelries yesterday, so that was good.”

The way Baccara was looking at him, full of fondness and amusement, was a bit too much and Sabo squirmed in place.

He doesn’t even know him that well. Does Baccara do this to other kids or is it just him?

“I see,” Baccara leaned forward, hands on his knees and Sabo’s cheeks flush once again at the proximity. Too close! “Can you tell Ace to come down to Makino’s bar tomorrow? I have someone I’d like to introduce him to.” Then, tilting his head, continued, “You can come, too, if you want.”

“I—uh—er,” _Dammit, Sabo. Pull yourself together!_ “S-Sure! I’ll tell Ace just that.” Scratching his cheek, he complied, “And I’ll guess I’ll tag along. I don’t have anything to do, anyway.”

“Wonderful!” Baccara exclaimed, moving away from his face (at this, Sabo let out a small sigh of relief) and putting his palms together. “I’ll see you two tomorrow, then. Remember, Partys Bar, okay?”

Waving goodbye, Sabo mildly thought about Ace’s reaction to his actions around his brother, and nearly shivered at the image that presented.

Yeah, it’s better if he doesn’t know about this… thing. Besides, it’ll go away after a few weeks.

…right?

* * *

It was around noon that Ace and Sabo came from the mountains, and their reaction to the bundle in my arms were… opposites, actually.

“The heck is that?” Was Ace’s blunt question, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. He was sporting a new elbow cast, and I made mental note to give him a check-up before he went back to Dadan.

“Is that a baby?” Sabo asked, top hat in his hands as he peered on his toes.

Obligingly leaning downwards to better accommodate for the blonde, I poked Luffy’s cheek and said, “This is Luffy, your new baby brother.”

“Oh, I see,” came Sabo’s distracted murmur. Then his brain finally computed the words and froze just as Ace gave me an incredulous glare. “Wait, excuse me?” 

“The fuck, ‘Cara!?” Ace spluttered, then pointed at the giggling child who was having far too much fun at their reactions. “He’s whose brother now!?”

Sabo was still gaping like a fish, struggling to find words and looking from me to Luffy with wide, mortified eyes. 

“Yours and Sabo’s, Ace.” Tickling the youngest Monkey, I laughed at Ace’s expression. He looked like Dogra had announced they were out of meat. “Oh, don’t be like that, Ace. You’ll love Luffy in no time.”

“No!” Ace refuted, arms held up in a an X position. “I am not going to have a baby brother.” As if punctuating his remark, he gave Luffy a dark look, who squealed and made grabby hands at the freckled boy. Poor Ace looked so confused, most would’ve run to the hills at that look.

“Why not, Ace? You haven’t even met him yet.”

A scowl tugged at his mouth, and he harrumphed, “I don’t want a crybaby as a brother! Sabo’s more than enough!”

I almost cooed at the dumbstruck look on Sabo’s face as Ace turned beet red from that admission. Ah, how adorable.

“But Ace, sweetheart,” his face turned a darker red at the endearment. He loves nicknames the most, the inner-romantic that he was. “All babies are crybabies. Even you were a crybaby once.”

He was a screamer, alright. Waking up the whole mountain with his bottomless stomach. 

Of course, Ace didn’t believe me and shouted, “Was not!”

“Are too.”

“Was not!”

“Are too.”

“Was not!”

“Everyone was a baby once, Ace. So, yes. You were a crybaby once.”

“See?” I beamed at Sabo, who squeaked and hid his face behind his hat. Ace shot him an expression of pure betrayal. “Even Sabo agrees. I was a crybaby, Makino was a crybaby, even Garp was a crybaby.”

“Shitty Gramps was a baby?” Ace’s baffled face spoke volumes. “He must’ve been a pretty ugly baby.”

Giggling at that, I walked towards Ace and, ignoring his increasingly wary features, all but dumped Luffy onto his thin arms.

More than a little panicked (and swearing a few choice words, no doubt heard from the bandits), he awkwardly managed to hold Luffy in such a way that had his head on his shoulder, and spasmed when Luffy started blowing raspberries in his, admittedly, sensitive neck.

“Make him stOP!” Chortling at the way his voice turned high-pitched in the end, I shook my head and said, “He wants to play with you, Ace. I can’t stop that.”

Disgruntled and struggling not to fall into fits of laughter from Luffy’s ministrations, Ace practically yelled at Sabo to ‘come and help me over here, you idiot!’ with his eyes, and after laughing for a few more seconds at his friend’s expense, came over to correct his grip with the patience of someone who’s used to teaching a particularly stubborn person like Ace.

“No, no, no, you tuck your arm underneath his bum.”

“His what now? You mean his ass?”

“Yes, you mountain-brat. His ass.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

The sight those three made, two kids fussing around a cheerful baby who smiled as if he knew no hurt, was enough to make me melt inside and wish I had the snail camera Garp gave me for times like these.

A telltale _flash!_ brought me out of my musings, and I turned around to see Makino who was waving her camera with a pleased grin.

“They’re cute, aren’t they?” She observed as Ace shoved Luffy in Sabo’s care since he knew so much about holding babies, where the heck did you even learn that, anyway? Sabo ignored him in favor of batting away Luffy’s hands from the rim of his top hat and stuck his tongue out in retaliation.

I nodded, grinning widely. “The cutest.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoooooo! So, school sucks. Exams are done, but we don’t have even one week of rest until we’re thrown into the second quarter, so that’s fun. Anyway!
> 
> Hope you liked this chapter filled to brim with family interactions starring: Big brother!Dragon, little sister!Makino, the ASL Trio and the clusterfuck that is panic attacks.
> 
> And Sabo may have a little crushie on Baccara. But don’t worry, it’s just puppy love (or is it? I kid, I kid. It’s not a Sabo x Baccara ship, don’t worry). Also, Dragon’s a troll and nothing you say can change my mind. Nothing.
> 
> Random question! Doflamingo or Kid? Just something that popped into my mind. Either as a friend or a lover.
> 
> Oh! Also, I’m planning on another One Piece fanfic in the near, near future about a SI/OC-insert who’s a Celestial Dragon. He knows about One Piece, but his memories are all fuzzy and it’s more of a déjà vu kinda thing than solid, clear memories. Also, it’s still yaoi, but not really the main focus.
> 
> On another note, one of you guys PMed me some questions, one in particular asked if I was going to make an SBS Corner for Baccara. And, yeah! I guess I will. Feel free to leave questions on the reviews, PM me directly, or ask me in my tumblr account nyd-needs-cuddles!
> 
> The questions in particular were: If Baccara had a modern-day job, what would it be? And: If Baccara were in the real world, what would be his ethnicity?
> 
> He’d be a barista-slash-café-owner (specifically a book café), and he’d be half-Spanish and half-British. Though, if he were in the modern world, he wouldn’t be able to meet the ASL Trio because of stuff.
> 
> Other than that, feel free to share any theories, criticism, or just scream in the review box! Thank you and see you in the next one!


	4. Footsteps In The Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More canon characters. And the plot thickens...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS.
> 
> GUYS I HAVE FANART.
> 
> I HAVE FANART.
> 
> OHMYGOD I HAVE FANART!
> 
> As you can see, the newest cover of this story is a fanart of Baccara by Ilne! Thank you so much for making me fanart! *runs around squealing and does Snoopy's happy dance* This one's for you, Ilne!
> 
> Ahem. So, this chapter has a bit of a timeskip in it after a little scene (yay, we get to see Luffy!), and is the start of *drumrolls* plot! Huzzah!

Image of Baccara: <https://m.imgur.com/x56WELY>

Image of Baccara w/ Dragon: <https://m.imgur.com/IDFoOcS>

Both are by Ilne from Fanfiction.net!

* * *

Ace stared at it— _him_.

He stared back.

Lips pulling down in a scowl, Ace stood up from where he sat to pace around in Dr. Sterling's upper floor.

Because of the freak storm from yesterday (he didn't really notice, since he was too busy sleeping), people were gathering around to help fix up the houses that were less than fortunate enough to have their rooftops blown away or windows shattered.

This meant _everyone_. The old man with the cane, that nice lady with a handkerchief on her head, even _'Cara_ had to go out and help. Which is something he would do, but still!

Heck, old hag Dadan even sent a few of the other bandits to scavenge some wood for the townspeople to use, which was _way_ out of character for her.

Sabo went out to collect some more money for their pirate fund, which left _Ace_ all alone to deal with… _this_.

This being that slobbering, puny baby that 'Cara said was his new baby _brother_.

He didn't want a crybaby for a brother! He already had Sabo! And 'Cara, too!

Grumbling underneath his breath, he chanced a glance to his… ward and found that he was still trying to gnaw his own foot off in the wooden crib Dr. Sterling found from somewhere. And getting saliva all over his onesie. _Ewww_.

"Why do _I_ have to deal with you?" He whispered furiously to himself. Running an agitated hand through his unruly locks (might have to ask 'Cara to cut it again), he let out an explosive sigh and crouched on a nearby windowsill. Looking downwards, he could see various people carrying wooden planks, some food for the workers, and a few other things that Ace couldn't name. If he squinted his eyes to the far left, he could see 'Cara single-handedly carrying a large crate whilst pointing some men towards other places where help was needed.

"We were supposed to train today…" he couldn't help but mumble, knees drawn against his chest as he glared at his older brother. It's not like it's his fault a storm came last night, but still! He was gonna show him how to do that cool hold-and-slam move he learned from Shitty Gramps! "Stupid storm."

A cry startled him from his thoughts, and he jolted from where he was. Looking back, he saw the baby—what was his name? Fluffy? No, that's more like a pet's name—on his stomach, looking at him with wide, round eyes. A line of drool was falling from the side of his gaping mouth, and Ace cringed at the sight.

"Whaddya want?" The baby laughed, like he found something incredibly funny in Ace's question. _Weird baby_. "Whaddya looking at, huh?"

The baby laughed harder, and rolled on his back. Clapping his pudgy hands together, he looked at Ace from where he was lying and suddenly made grabby motions. Grabby motions towards _him_.

"Oh, no. _No_." He glared at him, as if that would dissuade the baby from—from—from trying to get him to come _closer_. "Fuck no. Nuh uh, I'm staying right here, while you," he pointed at the thing that was giving him headaches. "You are staying right there. In your little cage. Okay?"

More grabby hands. And happy squealing. _What the fuck?_

Looking blankly at the baby (what was his name again? Seriously, he can't keep calling him 'baby' forever), he threw his hands up and approached him. "Fine. Fine! I'm coming, I'm coming!" Standing beside the crib, he loomed over the tiny person and gritted out, "You happy now, you little shit?"

The brat made louder screeching sounds, reaching upwards for him ( _No_ ) and babbling something in whatever language babies speak. Sighing, he braced himself with one arm on the crib and another reaching out to poke his cheek, murmuring, "Stupid baby, stupid storm." Poke. Poke. Poke. "I could be fighting with 'Cara now but _noooo_ , a storm just _had_ to come by and destroy stuff." Poke. Poke. Poke. Poooooke.

Happy noises. More and more happy noises. Is this normal baby behavior? Is this baby broken? Can babies _be_ broken?

Mentally shaking that thought off, and resolving to ask 'Cara later about it, he was about to draw back his finger when a tiny fist grabbed on it. Hard.

"What the—" more happy baby babble. Seriously? "Let go." He tugged his hand back. No luck. "Believe me when I say that you should _let go_. _**Now**_."

He got a shower of saliva for his troubles as the fucking baby blew a raspberry at him.

_Why you little—_

"Let. Go. Of. _Me._ " No budge. Were babies supposed to be this strong!? "I said, let go!"

This went on for what seemed to be _eternity_ , until Ace scooped him up and resisted the urge to just _shake him_.

Making sure to support the baby underneath (what did Sabo call it? His 'bum'?), he brought him up until they were face-to-face and outright glowered at him.

Bastard has the gall to fucking _grin_ at him.

"I'm gonna say this for the last. Fucking. Time." He inhaled deeply, reminding himself that he cannot throw the damn baby out of the freaking window. He can't, that's murder. " _Let. Me._ _ **Go**_."

Ace would like to say that the baby finally got the messaged and let his finger go. Instead, he looked at him with doe, brown eyes and gave him another grin and Ace was—

( _Oh_ , he thought. _His name was Luffy, isn't it?_ )

—Ace was fucking _gone_.

All the fight left his shoulders, and he was left staring wordlessly at this—at _Luffy_ giving him a smile that rivaled the sun in its brightness, and he couldn't— "What the fuck."

Even more happy baby noises.

"What the actual _fuck_?"

* * *

Years passed by, and I was now fifteen years-old.

Day by day, I grow even more aware of the deadline I had. One more year. One more year until Garp comes to pick me up and drop me into Marine territory.

My hair was longer now, already reaching my waist. I had decided to cut it when I turn sixteen, but now, Makino has my long locks to play with and put flowers on, as well as the other little girls that adored my hair.

I grew taller, too. But nothing worth mentioning. Ace and Sabo grew as well, and Luffy…

Well, he's a ball of energy, alright.

"'Cara!" A delightful voice shouted, and I was already turning around to catch the flurry of activity that was Luffy. He was wearing a sleeveless orange shirt that looked vaguely like Ace's, paired with camouflaged-green shorts and well-loved sandals. Already, he was sporting a few band-aids on his face and knees, but it did nothing to damper the bright grin situated on his tanned face.

Laughing a bit breathlessly from the impact, I carried Luffy up against my waist and nuzzled our noses together, eliciting light giggles from my youngest brother.

"Hello, Luffy," I greeted, as he went _Shishishishi_. A unique kind of laughter, but endearing all the same.

Up ahead, two sets of footsteps could be heard. Hurried and fast.

Ace and Sabo had come.

"Luffy!" Ace shouted, displeased and a hint annoyed. Most likely because Luffy had run off again. Excitable dear he was. "Don't do that!"

"Yeah, Lu," agreed Sabo, who was fixing his top hat that had become skewed from the run. "What if you get lost or something? We wouldn't be able to see where you are, then!"

"It's fine! 'Cause my brothers are the best and will always find me!" I couldn't help by coo at Luffy's words and the other two's bright, red faces. Darling Luffy had a way with words, truly.

"Well then!" I bounced Luffy and took pride in his happy screech. "How about we go visit Makino? I'm sure she missed you three dearly."

Receiving positive responses from all parties, we made our way to the familiar building of Partys Bar and was greeted by a chorus of 'good morning's and 'hello's.

Makino was bustling about behind the counter, having officially inherited the bar from her mother a few months ago, and looked up from where she was preparing a drink to give us a warm smile.

"Welcome, everyone. Just come down from the mountain?"

"Hello, Ms. Makino," was Sabo's polite reply. Ace gave a grunt, which earned him an elbow to the side from his best friend, and Luffy screamed a loud enough to be heard three islands over.

Sitting on a stool, I chuckled and said, "Getting used to running this all by yourself, Maki?"

A thumbs-up and a grin not unlike Luffy's was my answer as she served a customer their drink. "Yup! It's like wearing a well-fitted glove!"

"I'm glad," I chortled, her enthusiasm a welcome sight. It's no wonder Luffy adored her so. "If you need any help cleaning up the trash, you know where to find me, okay?"

"Us, too!" Luffy piped up, waving an eager fist around. All too used to it, Ace ducked from a wayward swing and rolled his eyes. "Me an' Ace an' Sabo can beat those guys up easily! We took down a really big boar yesterday for dinner, you know!"

"Really, now?" Makino gasped, hand on her cheek. "My, aren't those ferocious? Are you three alright?"

"We're fine, Ms. Makino," Sabo confirmed, showing her a bashful grin. "Just a few scratches, nothing major."

"And we ate it all!" Luffy once again cut in. Smacking his lips at the memory, he rubbed his stomach and continued, "It was so _yummy_."

The morning went on similarly to that, just talking with one another as we traded stories. Ace and Sabo talked about their plans to make a treehouse, Makino told us about this one sailor who tried to flirt with her as she was serving drinks, and I regaled a tale about how a shipwrecked pirate had to have his bones reset multiple times to be able to properly move.

Of course, all good things had to come to an end.

As the afternoon drew near, a new presence made itself known on the back of my mind.

Garp was here.

Resting my chin on my palm as I propped my elbow up on the counter, I idly wondered if I should tell the boys dearest 'grandfather' was here.

…Nah.

Though I am curious as to what brought the old seadog in this waters. Last I recalled, he was out on his way to bother Whitebeard for some _sake_.

With a _bang_ from the bar's doors, Garp's loud laughter was heard by everyone. Including three certain boys who had now adopted a rather fetching pallor.

"Where are my grandsons? Come greet your grandpa!"

Cursing underneath his breath, Ace grabbed both of his younger brothers by the scruff of their necks and tried to make a run for it, but Garp was faster than any nine year-old and easily caught them, with a well-place _Shave_.

Gathering them all up in his arms, Garp let out another loud guffaw as he made his way to me and Makino.

"Aren't you guys happy to see me?"

" _NO_! LET US GO, SHITTY GRAMPS!"

" _Bwahahahahaha!"_

Tucking a strand behind my ear, I watched them banter with exasperated fondness before asking, "So? What brings you back so early, Garp?"

Making a face at my using of his name, as opposed to the title 'grandfather', he grumbled quite like Ace would whenever he was denied matches and groused out, "I told you to call me grandpa, dammit."

Ignoring his complain, and Makino's amused giggles at his predicament, I raised an eyebrow at him in silent askance.

"Fine," he murmured. Letting go of his errant 'grandsons', he sat on a stool and grinned at me. _Uh oh_. "I'm here to pick you up for a little trip!"

"What?" I asked.

"WHAT!?" was the trio's helpful addition.

"A trip? Where to?" Makino inquired, setting down a mug of beer for the Marine. Taking it with a nod of gratitude, Garp took a deep gulp before answering, "An island in the North Blue. Senny says an important transaction is being made there, and since I was in the area, I thought 'Why not give my grandson a little fieldtrip?' and made my way here."

"You can't take 'Cara!" Luffy protested.

"Oh? And why not?"

"'Cause we were gonna go on a camping trip this weekend! And you're not invited!"

Enraged, Garp flicked Luffy's forehead and bellowed, "What do you mean I'm not invited!? I'm your grandpa!"

"No you're not!"

"Respect your grandpa, you little brat!"

Sighing at the commotion the two were making, a tug on my sleeve caught my attention and I looked down to see Sabo clutching his top hat.

"Do you have to go?"

Smiling, I gave his hair a quick ruffle, making him squawk. "Afraid so, Sabo dear." His cheeks flushed, and I pinched said cheeks. "Don't miss me too much. I'll be back before you know it."

Turning back to the mess of noise and limbs flung around, I massaged a temple as I noticed that Ace had joined the fight, and was trying his best to bite off Garp's arm with Luffy on the Vice-Admiral's ankle.

Honestly, these three.

"Alright, alright. Break it up you three." Clapping my hands, I gave them a _Look_ and was satisfied when they all straightened up. "Anything I should bring aside from the usual clothes, Garp?"

A viciously excited grin bloomed on his aged face, and he replied, "A coat! 'Cause it's going to be pretty chilly where we're going!"

* * *

Throughout the trip towards the North Blue, I was able to acquaint myself with some of the Marines on board.

Samuel, who was a body-builder with dark, cropped hair was the helmsman of the _Doghouse_ , and was usually the subject of Garp's whims with his wants to abruptly change course.

Another whom I've become close to was spry Gregory, a wielder of twin blades and had the penchant to steal some of Garp's rice crackers, much to his chagrin.

The last was a quiet sharpshooter by the name of Nicolas, who can be found napping on the crow's nest if the weather permits it.

All in all, the Marines were nice enough, and not at all that stiff or rigid. Granted, being with Garp may have something to do with it, but it was nice nonetheless.

We made a few stops for some supplies, with Garp forcing me to sometimes run after the ship using _Moonwalk_ to catch after them, and I retaliated by helping Gregory steal more of his rice crackers. _Hah_.

Some days later, snow can be seen falling from the sky, and I was soon swaddled with a thick wool coat and a white muffler from one of the Marines.

"Can't have you getting a cold now, can we?" Ricky, a brunette with a bandanna on his head, had said. Of course, I had to peel off some of the extra layers the others forced onto me, lest I be left to waddle around the entirety of the trip to Minion Island.

Apparently, a rare Devil Fruit was to be traded by a group of pirates in exchange for… actually, I haven't the slightest idea. Garp had forgotten to mention it, or perhaps saw that it wasn't important enough to take note of.

We were to meet up with a fellow Vice-Admiral, a woman named Tsuru, and to assist in the upcoming exchange.

"Alright, here are some rules you need to follow while you're here."

Looking at Garp, the old man gave me a cheeky grin before listing down the Do's and Don'ts while on Minion Island, which basically boiled down to: don't wander off without a Marine to accompany you, run away from any confrontations, and have fun.

Though I was a bit leery on the last part, the other two were perfectly understandable.

My babysitter of the day was Gregory, which was funny, because the last time we partnered all the rice crackers on board were nowhere to be found.

"Welp, guess it's you and me, squirt." Giving him a mock-punch from the jibe, we meandered through the snowy landscape without much thought, and amused ourselves via making plans to steal more of Garp's favorite snack. In response to our endeavor of stripping him of his food, he had become more adept in squirreling them away in hidden spots.

It was around nine in the morning when something happened, and it was _something_.

"What the—!?" Gregory started, staring at the sky as thin lines curved downwards like shooting stars. The sight of it made my stomach fill with dread, and Gregory was quick to contact the others with a Baby Den Den Mushi.

While he was conversing with the Marine on the other line—from the deep, gravelly voice, it must have been Samuel who had picked up—I made sure that no one was nearby to launch a surprise attack on both of us, and expanded my senses as far as I could.

Several meters northeast to where we were, I was able to discover two people, with one of them slowly… fading away.

"Greg," I called, and he snapped towards me without a second thought. "There are people from about that way," I pointed to said direction, and added, "I think one of them is hurt."

"You don't say?" While most were aware of my baffling range with the use of _Observation Haki_ , I don't blame them being a bit skeptical when I say there are things far away.

As he visibly thought over the information I gave him, he soon gave the okay to head out and make contact with the assumed-injured person and their companion.

A few minutes had passed, and we stumbled upon a child kneeling beside a bloodied body wearing a black, feathered coat. A few wooden chests and crates can be seen off the side, but my main focus was on the dying man.

Quickly crouching on my apparent patient, I checked for a pulse and was gratified to find one, albeit it was faint and far too fast. Looking up at the boy, who was curled up on a piece of cloth that had seen better days and wearing a black-spotted white hat, I addressed him curtly, "How long has he been bleeding out?"

Flinching, he regarded me with wary but teary eyes and sniffed. "S-Seven minutes, give or take." He rubbed his eyes harshly, and I was able to now notice the pale splotches on his skin. A skin disease? "He's got multiple gunshot wounds, but I don't think any of the bullets were left in his body."

"Good, that makes things easier." Barking an order to Gregory to call for reinforcements, I tore pieces of my clothes and bandaged the blonde as best as I could, and advised the boy to put pressure on his wounds to avoid any more excess blood leaving.

Three minutes later saw us carrying the unconscious man on a stretcher the three Marines had carried, and the boy—Law, if I was able to correctly assume from his soft voice—trailed after them with a one-track mind as Gregory and I brought up the rear.

Upon reaching the _Doghouse_ , we were ushered to the ship's clinic, where Law had insisted to enter as well.

"I can help," he claimed. "I have medical knowledge, my parents were doctors!"

The doctor on board and I shared a look, before agreeing and letting him join us as we operated on his guardian.

* * *

Law was… perplexed.

After the teen with the rose on his hair (one of the Marines called him Baccara?) let him in the clinic, they immediately began operating on Cora-san's body.

This Baccara person seemed to be a doctor, too, albeit a very young one. He was swift in cleaning up Cora-san, and made stitching him up almost easy.

A blood transfusion was needed, but that was solved when one of the Marines offered to give some of his blood, and Law didn't know what to think about that. Because weren't the Marines the reason Cora-san almost died? Wasn't the World Government at fault when they left him and the people of Flevance to slowly die in their own home?

Two hours later, Cora-san was deemed stable and the operation ended successfully, and the rose-wearing teen approached him after disposing his scrubs.

"Law, right?" He nodded, and the other sent him a reassuring smile. It was small, but sincere. "My name's Baccara, and I'm going to give you a quick check-up, okay? Then you can go to your guardian."

True to his word, the check-up was quick. He poked and prodded, but didn't ask too many questions. Just the usual, like when was the last thing he ate, how long had he been in the cold, etc., etc.

Now, he was sitting on a chair on Cora-san's bedside. And the entire process of him going here from Minion Island was… strange.

Nobody asked about the white marks on his skin, nobody pried about his past or the reasons why he was all alone with a bleeding body, and nobody forced him away from Cora-san either.

It was all very strange, but… it could wait when Cora-san wakes up.

Eyelids growing heavier with each passing moment, Law curled up beside the man who helped him when no one would and slept.

* * *

When Garp came back, he was accompanied by a greying woman whom I suspected to be Tsuru.

"The transaction's a bust," he said, frowning in worry. "Someone snatched the Devil Fruit right under their noses, and there's still the problem with…" he gestured to the sky, which was still streaked with white lines. "Whatever the hell this is."

"Perhaps it's a Devil Fruit ability of some sort?" I offered, shrugging. "Maybe it's to stop people from leaving and entering the island."

"The idea has some merit," Probably-Tsuru complied. "I believe we haven't been introduced yet. My name is Vice-Admiral Tsuru, the Marine in charge of the trade." Then she jabbed Garp on the side, which made him choke on his rice crackers. "And an old friend of this buffon. Unfortunately."

I like her.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Vice-Admiral Tsuru," I inclined my head. "My name is Baccara, and Mr. Garp was kind enough to bring me on this trip to experience what it's like being a Marine, however little I could do."

She hummed, scanning me up and down. "The student Garp's been training in his home island, yes?" Catching my nod, she continued, "Well, I wish you good luck in your training. God knows this fool doesn't know how to hold back."

Snickering at her statement, we entered the small office Garp rarely used and talked about the whereabouts of the apparently important Ope Ope no Mi, which allowed the user to perform several medical feats without the help of others, and even give immortality at the cost of their own life.

"Ah," I spoke up, and gained the two Vice-Admiral's attention. "While I was on Minion Island, Gregory and I came across two individuals. One was shot multiple times and is now residing in the clinic with the young boy he was with."

"Any idea who he is?" Garp asked, munching on more of his rice crackers. Loudly. I had long ago given up in teaching him proper dining etiquette, and by the looks of it, Tsuru as well.

I shook my head. "He didn't carry anything identifiable in his person, and I didn't want to press on the boy when he was clearly tired. I assume he also has some sort of skin disease, and it's making him weaker than normal."

"Skin disease?" Tsuru echoed. "What kind?"

"I'm afraid I don't know. Even Dr. Douglas doesn't."

"Well," Garp intoned, digging through his pockets to get yet another packet of goodies. "Why don't you describe it for us? We've been on these seas longer than you or Douglas have, maybe we have some idea on what it is."

True. Well then. "All I could notice are white splotches on his skin. Other than that, I see no other physical symptoms on him."

I felt more than saw them freeze in their seats, and knew at once that there was something more to the boy's condition.

"Garp?" The old man met Tsuru's eyes, and had a silent conversation that I wasn't able to follow.

Clearing her throat, I gave Tsuru a narrowed look, which she returned with a level gaze.

"What that boy has is Amber Lead Disease, the sickness that had destroyed Flevance."

I find myself stopping short, and gawked at them incredulously. "The White Plague?"

I've heard about the fall of Flevance, once a rich island famous for their picturesque white scenery and products made from Amber Lead. People say that it was infectious, but going by the lack of panic from Garp and Tsuru, I'd say that was misinformation.

_Maybe it's deliberate,_ a voice whispered. Cynical as always, aren't we? _You know what people can and_ _ **will**_ _do to save their own skin._

Don't I ever.

"But what is he doing here, so far away from home?"

"Who knows. Right now, though, we need to find a way to escape this cage."

"Vice-Admiral, sir!"

All eyes landed on the Marine. He was panting, but still retained his salute until Garp told him, "At ease."

"What seems to be the problem?" Asked Tsuru.

The Marine took a few more breaths, before dutifully reporting, "We found someone in need of help! He claims to have left the Barrels Pirates and is seeking sanctuary!"

Another one? "Send him in, Baccara can take a look on him."

Taking a moment to shoot Garp a half-hearted glare, I stood up from my seat and followed the Marine outside.

Sitting on one of the barrels littered about on the deck was a lanky man clad in a light blue raincoat of some sort. Once I was closer, I saw a cross-shaped scar on his chin, and turquoise-blue eyes regarding me warily.

"Hello," I greeted, and earned an acknowledging grunt for my efforts. "My name is Baccara, and I'm an assistant to Dr. Douglas." Not entirely true, but not entirely false at the same time. "Currently, he's occupied with another patient on board, but I assure you that I'm capable enough to give you a thorough check-up."

"You don't need to," he deflected, arms crossed in a defensive position. "I'm fine, really. Just needed a lift away from this place."

I smiled at him. It was not a nice smile. "I believe that is up to me to decide, Mr…?"

Shifting in his place, he replied, "Dory. And drop the Mr., it makes me feel old."

"Of course, Dory. Now," I pulled our a stethoscope from my coat, which he gave a blank look at. Possibly wondering where it came from, which was silly. I took it from my coat pocket. "Why don't we go somewhere more private, hm?"

Resigning to his fate, he got up and slunk behind me like a particularly broody teenager.

* * *

"Other than a light case of frostbite, you don't have anything wrong."

Dory nodded, pulling on his shirt after the guy—he _was_ a guy, right?—finished checking him for injuries.

He was nice enough. Though his smiles were a bit... scary (not that he'd ever admit it), he was amicable and didn't look too deeply to the bruises that littered his body.

While it was a bit weird for a boy to be wearing a flower on his head, Dory ignored it and instead found himself at a lost on what to do now.

He should probably say thank you.

"Uh, thanks." Baccara tilted his head. "For the, uh, check-up."

Blinking, Baccara smiled (it was a nicer one. Warmer, too) and shook his head. "Ah, no need. I was only doing my job."

"Ah… right." Okay, awkward. What's he supposed to do now? "I'll just… leave."

Dory left quickly, as Baccara watched him go with amusement in his silver eyes.

* * *

When Rocinante woke up, it was slow and groggy.

Sound came first, and the beeping of a monitor was enough to jar him into wakefulness.

Was he in a hospital? Was Law alright? Did he escape from Doffy—Doflamingo?

Groaning, he tried to flex his fingers, and winced when his attempt to sit up made his chest and stomach tingle painfully.

"Cora-san?" Wait, was that Law? "Cora-san!"

Turning his head to the side, Rocinante felt his eyes widen at the sight of his boy—wearing new clothes and looking at him with the same wide-eyed expression Rocinante was sure he had—and croaked out wetly, "Law…"

In a display of rare exuberance, a large smile overtook Law's normally blank expression, and he all but pounced on the tall man with his eagerness.

Unable to hold back a wince, Rocinante mourned the loss of contact so quickly when Law scrambled backwards, apologizing as he went.

"I-It's fine, Law." Really, it was. Rocinante's had worse. "C'mere, will you?"

Slowly, Law came closer, and Rocinante all but pulled him in a hug. He was here, he was here and _alive_. He still had that disease, but with the Ope Ope no Mi, he'll be cured.

Law will _live_.

The sound of a door opening startled him back to reality, and Rocinante saw a young teen wearing a white doctor's coat with a red neckerchief and a rose tucked behind her ear enter the room.

Spotting them both, the person smiled and nodded towards him.

"I see you're awake. Law, too." The aforementioned boy, twisted a bit in Rocinante's hold so that he was facing the stranger, but he didn't leave his arms and Rocinante was grateful for that. "How are you two feeling?"

"Sore," Rocinante answered. Wetting his throat, he said, "And itchy. Never did like bandages."

Chuckling, the teen soon came to the foot of the bed, and looked kindly at Law as she asked, "And how about you? Feeling better now?"

Law was silent for a moment, before he gave a slight nod that made her smile widen. "That's good. Why don't you help me see if you're guardian's all right, yeah?"

Rocinante watched them fuss around him, asking him questions and prodding him here and there. He didn't know who this person was, but since Law was alright with her, then she must be a good person.

Relaxing on his pillows, Rocinante looked up at the ceiling and exhaled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyyyyy, Corazon lives! *jazz hands* and thinks that Baccara's a girl. Lmao.
> 
> Regarding X Drake (aka Dory, and I swear I haven't stopped laughing since a while ago), the reason he was able to know that Baccara's a boy is because during the check-up, Baccara assured him that it's alright for him to strip, so yeah.
> 
> So here's a list of ages for a guide:
> 
> Baccara – 15
> 
> Ace – 10
> 
> Sabo – 9
> 
> Luffy – 6
> 
> Law – 13
> 
> Corazon – 26
> 
> X Drake (Dory) – 19
> 
> Makino – 18
> 
> One more year until Shanks visits! Whoop!
> 
> Edit: I HAVE ANOTHER PIECE OF FANART!


	5. Can You Hear Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Marine interactions, and more shenanigans ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your reviews, guys! Really. It means a lot to me. Also, lots of you readers are excited for the moment when Corazon realizes his mistake, and let me tell you, so am I *evil cackling*

At first, I didn't notice it.

The sound, that is. It was nothing more than a whisper after all. _It's probably the wind_ , I told myself, as I went around the Marine vessel to check up on my current patients. Rocinante—who was apparently an undercover Marine sent to infiltrate the ranks of the Donquixote Pirates, and is the Fleet Admiral's apparent _son_ , if Garp was to be believed—was recovering well, but hasn't yet taken a step outside of the clinic. It's for the best, if little Law's musings about the blonde man's chronic clumsiness isn't an exaggeration.

Then the whisper became more… what was the word? Ah, yes. _Prominent_. More, solid and just _there_.

It had startled me at first, when a hushed voice (or was it voices?) breathed at my ear a little, _"Hello_." Dory had given me a vaguely weirded out and worried look at that, since I was in the middle of asking him if his bruises ( _abuse,_ Dr. Sterling's reminder came unbidden, _is usually seen on the torso or waist, where clothing can easily hide it_ ) were bothering him, since he was shifting in his place on the upper deck. Waving him off, I had stretched my senses for anyone who could have done that, but came up with none.

More than a little curious, I waited for them to make their move.

And they did, three days later when it was night and the moon was full, another gush of wind swept by me and carried the same word, _"Hello."_

It seemed familiar, strangely enough. And when I thought about it hard, when I recounted my previous weeks inside the confines of my room, I realized that it— _they_ had been there ever since Luffy came to Dawn Island. How peculiar. Were they connected to Luffy in some way?

It couldn't have been a Devil Fruit user, Dragon would've thrown a fit and opened his stitches if that was the case. Not a Den Den Mushi either…

Deciding to give it a shot, I cupped my hands and leaned forward to the air, whispering back, "Hello, and who might you be?"

For a few minutes, there was silence. And just before I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, a small wave of water slammed against my side of the ship and doused me wet.

Staring blankly at the distance, I gaped, mouth opening and closing in indecision, before gasping out with no small amount of wonder at this world,

"Oh," and because it bore repeating, " _Oh_ ".

* * *

After laughing at my misfortune, Garp had gleefully given me a spare set of Marine uniform for the new recruits, and I rolled my eyes in good-nature before slipping it on.

The fabric was heavy, but in a comforting sort of way, and it moved easily with every step I took. I had toyed with the blue cloth I was supposed to tie underneath the collar before keeping it in my pockets and using my neckerchief as a substitute, making sure that the white cross can be seen on my left.

Garp had taken one look at my attire before bursting into loud guffaws, but there was a note of pride in the way it escalated and in the fond head ruffle he gave me.

Tsuru had simply raised an eyebrow, seeing as she was with him when I came out of the bathroom conjoined in the office, but said nothing.

I gathered a few double-takes in the morning, some hearty slaps on the back as they 'welcomed the newbie into the ranks', Gregory had given me a playful salute, Dory stared at my clothes before giving me a nod, Law frowned for a moment until Rocinante pulled his hat downwards to cover his eyes, and Rocinante himself grinned at my temporary uniform in approval.

I went back to my spot on the portside, leaning against the railings and looking (or rather, listening) for a sign of… whoever that was from last night.

Taking a gamble, I stepped on one of the bars and leaned downward, quietly asking, "Are you the ocean?"

A salty spray kissed my cheek, and that was that.

Letting out an involuntary giggle, I held out a hand and reached out, straining to touch the waves lapping against the ship's bulk, and was suddenly tugged backwards into the arms of a harried and furious Dory.

"What were you _doing_?" He hissed, turquoise-blue eyes glaring at me accusingly. Blinking, a bit dumbfounded, I tilted my head in askance. Shoulders slumping, he let me stand upright so I was no longer leaning on his chest, and sighed explosively.

"You could've _fallen in_ ," he stressed, lips curled downward in displeasure. I made an, "ah" noise and nodded. "I wouldn't, though," I replied, and received a disbelieving grunt. "Really, I wouldn't."

 _The ocean would save me_ , I didn't say. And then I remembered how I wound up in this world in the first place, and said, "Thank you." To both him and the ocean themself.

A particularly large gush of water showered upon us, and amidst the nearby Marine's hooting and laughter, and Dory's flabbergasted spluttering, I laughed loudly at it all.

* * *

Hope was a dangerous thing. This, Law knew well.

Hope was telling Lami (she's not here anymore, she's _not—_ ) that she'll be alright, because Mother and Father were the best doctors there were in Flevance, of course they'll find a cure!

Hope was the nun telling him that she'll be back to pick him and Lami up, until she was gunned down along with the rest of the children she was ushering away.

Hope was Cora-san taking him from island to island, searching for someone to help him with his disease.

Hope was Cora-san widely smiling, saying _"I love you, Law."_ as he faced off with his crazy brother, and nearly dying if it weren't for the Marines.

Hope was a dangerous, dangerous thing that crippled one's mind and soul, that tore your insides apart and gave you a false sense of security.

And here, on a Marine ship with two Vice-Admirals friends with Cora-san's adoptive father, Law didn't dare let himself have hope.

Because they were kind and amiable now, when Cora-san's still injured and needed rest. They're all smiles and laughter now, because they don't know about the Ope Ope no Mi just yet. They don't know all the things he and Cora-san have done (him nearly killing the latter, and the smoker setting fire on hospitals).

It wouldn't be long until they turn sneers and blades and guns towards them, forcing them to work for the government (the very same people who _ignored_ Flevance's cries), turning them into _weapons_ to their liking.

And Law didn't want that. Not when he had the closest thing to happiness right now.

Stretching his legs from where he sat inside the clinic, he ignored the aches on his body that were not from staying in one place for too long, and shuffled towards the bookshelves lined up on the wall.

It held mostly books about medicine, anatomy, acupuncture, and folk legends about medicinal paste, and the rare fictional novels that patients most likely read to past time (he looked into one on a whim, and quickly put it back once he realized it was a _love novel_ ), but all of it were read by Law already, either previously on school or from his Father when he was teaching him the works of a doctor.

Shaking away the memories, Law stood on the tips of his toes to look on the upper rows for some new material, and nearly jolted in surprise when the door opened to reveal the very same teen (who was _still_ wearing that Marine uniform) that saved Cora-san.

"Oh," he started, then smiled warmly at him as he walked closer. Law mentally braced for the inevitable conversation that was about to come. "Are you reaching for something? Here, let me help."

"Not really," Law muttered. Rubbing his arm to ease the dull pain in his limbs (it was getting worse and worse), he clarified, "I was just looking if there were any new books to read."

The teen—Baccara, if he remembered correctly—hummed, finger tracing the spines of the books from where Law can't see, and then pulled three in succession: one lilac and thin, another dark blue and a bit thick, and the last was at least half Law's height.

"These would probably curb your boredom for now," he said, gently placing them on his thin arms as if afraid he'll break. Law doesn't blame him, even Cora-san was similar a few weeks on their first trip in search for a cure. Didn't stop him from dropping him, though. "This one's about some herbal flowers, this is a research about how the appendix is useful for the human body, and this one is more of a encyclopedia about the various diseases in both the Four Blues and both sides of the Grand Line."

Those _did_ sound interesting, especially the last one. "Thank you," he said, sincerely. Turning to the side, Law made his way towards Cora-san's bed and—

— _Black spots invaded his vision, white noise in his ears—_

— _aches in his bones, aches in his chest—_

— _he's fall_ _ **i n g—**_

—"Law!"

* * *

"Law! Can you hear me?"

I lightly patted on the pale boy's cheeks, and cursed when I received no response.

"Law?" A voice wandered from behind the curtains used to give patients privacy, and it was pulled away by a just-awoken Rocinante. He took one look at Law and immediately attempted to stand up. Instead, he somehow got his legs tangled with the bedsheets and fell on the floor with a loud _thud_. "Ow…"

"Rocinante!" I barked, forgoing honorifics to speak faster. "Get Dr. Douglas ASAP! Tell him it's a Code Blue." Scooping Law up (too light, he was far too light), I quickly made way to a nearby bed and unbuttoned his top to use my stethoscope. His heartbeat was faint and slow. _Not good_. Looking over my shoulder, Rocinante's deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression would've been funny in any other day, but today it simply irritated me enough to shout, "Get your ass moving, you bumbling buffoon!"

Squeaking an apology, he ran on his socks and slipped through the door. Judging by the groans I could faintly hear, he had brought down yet another group of people as collateral damage.

Focusing on the boy before me (he was a boy, he was just a b _oy_ —), I checked for any outward signs of any sickness, and wanted to slap myself for not noticing the obvious so soon.

_Amber Lead Disease_.

Shit, his health must have taken a blow from being in the cold so long. And I can't quite remember if he's been eating well other than the fact I could see him in the dining room during breakfast and lunch.

Mentally kicking myself in the back, I made sure that he was as comfortable as possibly and began massaging his arms and legs, anything to give him any amount of comfort while his body was turning in against him.

 _Fuck_ , where was a Devil Fruit with healing abilities when you needed it?

"What's wrong?" Was Dr. Douglas's question as he burst through the door, Garp and Tsuru at his heels as Rocinante finally managed to pick himself up.

"Amber Lead Disease," I answered curtly, and ignored Rocinante's sharp inhale. "Has he been eating properly for the last few days?"

"Uh…" Rocinante bit his lip, visibly trying to recall about his ward's eating habits, and said, "I've been trying to get him to eat more, but other than that, he's been eating the same amount of food as he always does."

"Which is?"

"Uhm, a bowl of rice with some side dishes, sometimes a fruit or two."

"Definitely not enough," Dr. Douglas bit out, opening an eyelid and checking his Law's pupil and inner skin. It was a pale pink. "Amber Lead Disease slowly tears down the body's immune system and _feasts_ upon the fats. He most likely fainted due to the lack of nutrients and red blood cells. How long has he had this disease?"

"Three years," Rocinante answered, looking dreadfully heartbroken. "When he was ten, he said that he had roughly three years before he died. But he already—" he clamped down at that, and Garp raised an eyebrow.

"'But he already' what?"

Rocinante's silence was telling. But Garp didn't push after a sharp look from his fellow Vice-Admiral.

Two hours later saw us to a waking Law, and Rocinante barely restrained himself from wrapping the boy up with his arms.

"How do you feel, Law? You gave us quite a scare." Law looked blankly at us, eyes not registering as quickly as he usually would. "Do you remember what happened before you blacked out?"

"I… blacked out?" His voice was tiny, even more silent than before. Dr. Douglas handed him a glass of water which he gratefully drank. Wetting his lips, he tried to speak, "How long?"

"Two hours," Tsuru informed. She stepped closer, but not in a menacing way. "Do you feel anything different?"

"Sore," Law answered. Swallowing, he looked at me directly and asked, "I don't have much time left, don't I?"

"Law!" Rocinante cried, denial clear in his features. "Don't talk like that! We'll figure something out!"

I shook my head at Rocinante's pleading look. "Unless there's a healing Devil Fruit in hand, I can't possibly—"

"But what about the Ope Ope no Mi?" Garp spoke up for the first time in the conversation. He wasn't eating his rice crackers, either. "That's a Devil Fruit specialized in healing. All we need to do is to find it."

"Easier said than done," Tsuru retorted. "So far, we have no leads as to where the Devil Fruit might have gone, and that's without putting the Barrels and Donquixote Pirates in the equation."

In the corner of my eye, I see Rocinante chew his lower lip, likely a habit stemming from his smoking tendencies (confiscated by yours truly), and I let him take his time in tasting his words before he let them out.

"Are there no clues to follow?" I asked, and took note of Law's small hands clenching tightly on the sheets. "No leads?"

Garp shook his head, and I didn't need to use _Observation Haki_ to know the turmoil within Rocinante's mind. For an undercover agent, his face was quite the open book. "None."

Then, when Rocinante looked like he was about to burst from the words he's been trying to hold back, Law announced, "I ate it. I ate the Ope Ope no Mi."

Silence, quiet in a way you could hear a pin drop. And then—

"Do you know how to utilize its abilities?" Briskly inquired Dr. Douglas, ever the person to prioritize first and worry later. Holding up a hand to halt Rocinante's apologies, he continued, "While the Ope Ope no Mi is indeed the ideal Devil Fruit for the situation, it will be useless if you do not know its abilities and potential."

"I—" Law bit back his statement, jaw working as he admitted, "No. I haven't had the chance to experiment with it."

"Do you know what the Ope Ope no Mi can do, Vice-Admiral Tsuru?"

The woman in question frowned in thought, before saying, "No. All I know are rumors, and even then they're vague at best."

"Dammit," Garp cursed. How eloquent. "No hints? None at all?"

"None, Garp. And believe me, this frustrates me, too."

Holding my chin with a folded finger, I mused what I knew about Devil Fruits. From what I could glean from Tsuru's explanation about the Ope Ope no Mi, it was a Paramecia-type, meaning anything related to the name of the Devil Fruit can be done as long as the user so wills it. And the name was 'Ope Ope'… derived from the word _operation_.

Wait a second—

"Law," I chimed in, regardless of how rude I seemed and looked at the terminally ill boy. "Try cutting something with your Devil Fruit."

Paying no mind to Garp's _"What?"_ and Rocinante's _"Wait, what are you—?"_ , Law's eyes scanned the room for anything that wouldn't be missed, and settled for a spare pillow on one of the unoccupied beds.

Brows meeting in concentration, fingers splayed in front of him led way for a blue dome appearing approximately as wide as he was and, in a show of instinctual handling, took the offered scalpel I had filched from Dr. Douglas's kit and _cut_.

And cut he did, and without spilling the pillow's contents as well. Clearly, it was the best Devil Fruit for doctors. Or rather, _surgeons_ , to be specific.

"Excellent!" I gleefully exclaimed, snapping them out of their stupor. "Dr. Douglas, prepare for an operation! From what I can see, the chosen object will feel no pain when cut open within the confines of the blue dome!"

"How extraordinary!" Dr. Douglas gushed, fixing his glasses. "Let us remove the Amber Lead in young Law's body, post-haste!"

After successfully pushing away the unneeded onlookers for privacy ("No, I do not care if your Devil Fruit will give us a silent field to operate on. You can do that _outside_ , Mr. Rocinante."), I quirked an excited grin to Law, who was lying on his back and looking very much amused and flummoxed.

"Ready for your very first surgery, Dr. Trafalgar?"

A flash of something went through gold eyes, before a small smile bloomed in his youthful fave as he nodded. "Ready, Dr. Baccara."

Dr. Douglas chortled at our antics, snapping on some gloves (one can never be too careful of germs). "Let's get started, then!"

* * *

Dory didn't know what was happening. All he knew was that the little kid who was tagging along blondie was undergoing surgery, and that Baccara was in there with him.

Sighing at the pacing Marine, surprisingly not tripping even once, Dory called out, "Hey, you're not helping anyone burning a hole on deck. Sit down, will ya?"

Brought out of his thoughts, blondie murmured a _"Sorry"_ even though his heart wasn't really in it, and Dory didn't blame him. If someone he knew was in surgery (someone he considered as family, for one), _he_ wouldn't be able to stay still either.

Running a hand through ginger locks, he thought of something that would put the other's mind in a different focus, and asked, "Tell me about the kid."

"Pardon?"

"The kid," Dory repeated. Blondie still looked confused. "Tell me about 'im, beats walking around and tiring your legs out."

A bit uncertain, blondie (he should really ask his name) sat beside him on one of the crates, and played with the hem of his shirt. "Well… did you know Law stabbed me in the back a few minutes after he met me?"

"What." Dory is… _what?_

"Well, I don't blame him. I mean, I kicked him when I first met him. Anyone would get angry."

"But—" angry enough to kill? What even… " _What?_ "

Dory… might have not thought this through.

Then, as if planning for this the whole time, the door to the clinic opens to reveal a happy Dr. Douglas. He was wiping away some of his sweat with a white handkerchief, but the pleased expression on his face bellied the good news.

Swiftly standing up, and Dory was momentarily worried he'd fall over thin air, Rocinante all but sprinted towards the good doctor and asked, "Is he—?"

"He's alright, Rocinante-kun." Dr. Douglas grinned, happy and giddy. "He'll live, Rocinante-kun. He'll live."

Rocinante's face went slack, before scrunching up as tears gathered in his eyes. Letting out a sob, Rocinante fell on his knees as he cried his heart out, reverently repeating " _oh thank the seas"_ again and again.

Dory couldn't help but smile.

* * *

Despite finally solving the mystery of the unknown voice, it still took me more than a few minutes to hear from them again.

Usually, it was the normal greeting of _"hello"_ and _"good morning"_. Sometimes, they were words like _"gather up all of the crew"_ and a peculiar laugh like, _"yohohoho"._ It honestly sounded like a song, and when I asked about it I received nothing but giggles in return.

And on rare times, it would seem like they were reporting something, like reading the newspaper but it was happening right _now_.

" _Gathering signatures, gathering signatures~"_ the ocean crooned. _"Under the same sun, we all are."_

"And who might the other 'we' be?" I asked, not really expecting a straight answer. For being the embodiment of majority of the world, they are ridiculously fond of riddles.

Another happy hum, most likely a sea shanty or the like. And then, _"underneath the sea~ corals and bubbles and they living happily~"_

I rested my cheek on my palm, elbow propped up on the railings. "What, mermaids?"

Another giggle, like wind chimes tinkling in the wind.

Feeling someone's gaze drilling holes on the back of my head, I turned around and saw Dory, who was also wearing a Marine uniform (complete with the cap) and giving me a heavily disapproving look.

Being much like my little brothers when caught stealing from the cookie jar, I gave him a sharp grin and waved back cheekily.

His only reaction was to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh. Loudly.

" _Little soldier boy marching to war~"_ they suddenly sang, but with an undertone of sadness. _"Little soldier boy will you go far?"_

'Soldier boy'? Then does that mean…

"Joining the ranks, Dory?" I loudly inquired, gaining the attention of the nearby Marines.

"Hell yeah he is!" Cheered Samuel as he gave Dory a noogie. From the indignant yelp Dory let out, he didn't expect that kind of treatment. "And you'll be joining next year, am I right?"

At this, Dory briefly looked taken aback. "You are?"

Nodding, I wiggled my fingers and said, "Yup! Garp's been training me since I was eleven, give or take."

At my confession, a few winced in pained sympathy. Samuel grimaced.

"Yikes, Garp the Fist training you?" Gregory boggled, getting up close to my face as if to determine if I was real or not. "How are you still _alive_?"

Pushing him back, I rolled my eyes. "Sheer spite and determination."

"Ah," Gregory marveled, looking like I have given him the answer of the universe. "That makes perfect sense. Yes, yes, it does."

"Leave 'im alone, Greg!" Shouted someone from near the gallery. "Don't let the poor sod recall the horror of 'is trainin'!"

More laughter, none of it mocking and all playful ribbing. For the first time since he boarded the ship, Dory looked at ease and was even wearing a small smile as they heckled him for reasons why he joined.

"Hopefully, I'll meet more good men like them next year," I muttered, and a soft breeze gently caressed my face.

" _Whatever will be, will be~"_ they breathed, low but comforting. _"The future's not ours to see~"_

Unwittingly, I remembered Holly singing a song similar to that, and followed, " _Que sera, sera._ "

" _What will be, will be~"_

* * *

Coming home have never felt better.

During the journey back, Rocinante and Law had requested to be left on a nearby island in North Blue and, agreeing with the notion and idea, we left them with some necessities and numerous Den Den Mushi numbers, as well as some rifles that Dory looked skeptical of Rocinante being able to use without somehow shooting his own foot.

Garp laughed.

"Don't worry! Senny made sure he's whipped up to shape before letting him even step one foot in the armory or the shooting range! And let me tell you, it took _years_ to correct the boy's form!"

"Garp-san!" Shrieked Rocinante, mortified and beet red.

Dory was dropped to a Marine base in North Blue, and after giving our goodbyes, he saw us off with a very touching vow,

"You better climb the ranks fast, Baccara! I won't be waiting for your sorry ass!"

And since I've been spending way too much time with boisterous sailors, I replied,

"Touché, Dory! You love my ass!"

The beautiful shade of bright pink coloring his face was quite fetching, and of course, at least eighty percent of my company fell into hysterics.

Back to my going home, Makino was there to welcome us, and she did so with a hug and kiss on my cheek.

"It's good to have you back, Baccara." Then she smiled, looking seconds away from giggling. "The boys were honestly considering chasing after you in one of Old Man Jirou's rowboats, and I'd rather not tie them up in trees like Dadan suggested."

"Did they, now?" I raised an eyebrow, and trudged towards Partys Bar with Makino in tow. Garp was off somewhere, most likely to wreak havoc in the forest, and Tsuru had abstained from leaving to finish some paperwork. Garp's paperwork, to be exact.

Seeing three little boys sulking on Makino's bar counter lifted my spirits admirably, and I creeped behind them until digging my fingers on Ace's sides, eliciting piercing squeals and earning two wide-eyed looks of shock from Sabo and Luffy.

Realizing who it was, Luffy wasted no time to jump onto me with a joyous, "'Cara!" Sabo not far behind as he all but stuck himself on my side, arms wrapping around my thighs tightly.

Gathering himself, Ace whipped his head around, saw our brothers suffocating me with their love, and pretended to act all grumpy, before breaking out into a grin and hugging me on my other side.

"Welcome home, 'Cara."

I nuzzled Luffy's nose, ruffled Sabo's hair with my free hand, and placed a peck on the crown of Ace's head.

"It's good to be home."

* * *

It's two days later, when Ace and Sabo were busy collecting money for their pirate fund, did I remember something I'd wanted to ask Luffy.

About the voice, the ocean, and whatever it was I was still hearing.

"Lu," I started, as he played around the trees like his namesake. He titled his head, upside-down from a branch as a snake slithered nearby. Pulling the reptile without batting an eye, I tied it into a knot with itself and threw it somewhere in the bushes. "What do you hear?"

"Huh?" Ah, I should be more specific… hmm…

"Does the ocean talk to you?" Doe brown eyes blinked, and a D grin stretched across his face.

"Yeah!" He said, swinging from the branch and landing on his feet. He ran up to me, hugging me as he buried his nose on my leg. Laughing a _shishishishi_ , he asked, "Does the ocean talk to you, too?"

I _booped_ his nose, making him cross-eyed as I confirmed, "They do, Lu. Just recently, actually."

"What about the sky?" He bulldozed through. "The birds? The fishies? How about—"

"One at a time, Lu. One at a time." I placated him by carrying him in my arms, and said, "No, only the ocean.

He frowned, disappointed as he drew circles on my coat. "Ace and Sabo can't hear 'em too. It's…" _lonely_ , he didn't say. But I heard it all the same.

"Well," I bounced him on my hip, and was gratified when he laughed. "How about you teach me how to hear them? I'm sure I'll be able to, since I heard the ocean."

His eyes sparkled, like they always did when something he deemed 'cool' or 'awesome' was seen. How I wished he'd stay a kid forever. "Really!?"

"Really!" I repeated. After all, how hard can it be?

* * *

It was, bluntly put, very hard.

Luffy's ability to hear the Voices, as they had introduced themselves to my littlest brother, was something natural and not easily taught. Oh, he tried his best, mimicking sound effects and gesticulating frantically here and there, but it wasn't an easy mountain to climb over, but I had patience.

I stayed usually near a cliff, overlooking the sea.

" _This is where I first heard 'em,"_ Luffy had said. _"Maybe you'll hear 'em better here!"_

I didn't, but I also didn't want to dash his hopes so quickly. So I waited. Days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months. It was already December, and there was still no sign of me being able to hear the others, and Luffy was down in the dumps.

Of course, his mood didn't go unnoticed by the people around us, starting from the Bandits of Mt. Colubo and circling twice around Fuusha Village, many have expressed their concerns about little Monkey D. Luffy's uncharacteristic sadness.

It wasn't until I was in one of the language lessons Makino and I had started for the boys did I find out the answer to my dilemma.

"It's _I should go home before the sun sets_ , Ace. Not _I could go home before the sun sets_."

Arms crossed and nose scrunched, Ace asked, "What's the difference? I _could_ go home before the sun sets, but that doesn't mean I _would_."

" _Because_ , dearest Ace," he flushed. "'Could' is used when the option can be done without circumstances, while 'should' is used when not doing the action can lead to unwanted effects. Like, say, Dadan organizing a search party to look for you."

"The old hag wouldn't do that," he groused, looking away and stubbornly on Makino's room's floor. "She doesn't care."

"Oh, really now?" Hands on my hips, I challenged him, "Then do you not recall the tizzy you sent the bandits in when you failed to tell them you were staying over at Sabo's when you were seven? Or the time when Magra nearly worried himself sick when you accidentally stole a snatched grenade? Or what about—"

"Stop! Fine, fine, I get it!" Ace threw his hands up in the air. Luffy _shishishishi_ 'ed as Sabo shook his head in fond exasperation. Makino giggled behind a hand. "The bandits actually care for us! Can we move on now?"

Deciding that it was enough teasing, we continued tackling the sentences and arguing about why which word should have been which word, and it was there that I got a _eureka_ moment.

It's not what I must hear, but what I _can_ and _will_.

There's no forcing or rushing the Voices to talk to me, or to upgrade my sense of hearing to be in tune with nature, but to just _wait_.

So I still went to Luffy's special spot, I still tried to hear the Voices and the animals, but I never went high and above. I simply let it be. If I will hear, then I will hear. If I won't, then I won't. Simple as that.

It's during March when something finally happened, and I was in the middle of making some herbal paste for burns. One of the bandits was a bit of a pyromaniac, and he had been a tad too close to his latest 'work of art'—aka burning down a noble's house in High Town—and suffered from it. Nothing too serious, just a few burns on his arms and left leg.

Smothering the herbs needed, I picked up my pestle and positioned it just so, and—

— _ **windairthesunissmilingdownuponyourainiscoming**_ —

—I froze, mind jumbled and picking through the mess of words the Voice(s) had announced, and I looked out of the window to see nothing but clear skies and a few fluffy clouds.

No signs of downpour, at all.

But then again, who am I to argue with the forces of the world?

As I went to Partys Bar, I was greeted with an argument that didn't fail to bring a smile on my face.

"Like I said, we need balloons! What's a party without balloons?"

"Nuh-uh! We need something from the Grandline! I know, we can ask Dad!"

"Your _dad_? Isn't he some bigshot or something? Would he even visit on Sabo's birthday?"

"Uh-huh! I asked him to!"

"How?"

"I told the wind, _duh_."

Ace palmed his face. "Oh, yes. How silly of me to forget your _imaginary friends_."

Luffy's cheeks puffed up, red in anger and every inch of an offended child. "Windy is _not_ imagi—imagi-whatsits! Even Dad can hear them!"

" _Uh-huh_ , 'course he does. You ever think he's just playing along?"

"But Dad doesn't 'play', he's all work."

"… _point_ , but you _are_ still his kid. Maybe you're an exception."

Making my way to the black-haired duo, I poked their cheeks and laughed ("You're giggling again!") at their squeaks.

"And what's gotten you two all worked up?"

Luffy clutched my right arm, nuzzling it (it seems that Eskimo kisses have become the norm for Luffy, now) in replacement for not reaching my nose. "Ace was being mean 'cause he can't hear Windy. _You_ can hear Windy, right?"

Ace scoffed, no doubt waiting for me to debunk his words, but I merely smiled and nodded.

"It's true," I said to Ace's open jaw. "The world is a very strange place, Ace. Never underestimate it."

"B-But!" He stammered, then gave up with a curse and grumble. _Shishishi_ went the youngest, and I gave Ace a light kiss to compensate for not telling him about 'Windy'.

"Don't be like that, Ace. Now, what's this about Uncle D?"

At that, a new argument sprang to life, and all was well in Dawn Island.

For now, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyyy! NYD here for a new chappie! Whoo!
> 
> Sadly, we have to say bye-bye to our North Blue escapees. Yes, Law and Corazon went to Swallow Island, and will meet with Bepo, Shachi and Penguin as is in canon. Yes, Law will still be a pirate and name them after Corazon. You betcha that Corazon's dying of happiness.
> 
> He also still doesn't know about Baccara's gender, so you can look forward to that conversation. *evil cackling*
> 
> Dory's a sweetheart, and unwilling big brother that Baccara somehow picked up. Dragon has some competition, lmao.
> 
> Uncle D is indeed Dragon, and yes, the ASL Trio knows him (he keeps his promise to attending every birthday party of Luffy's), though they don't know why he's a 'bigshot'.
> 
> The Voice of All Things has also made an appearance! *confetti appears out of nowhere* But don't worry, Baccara can only hear phrases and expressions, so to say, 'cause I won't make him OP. He also has a range, of sorts. He'll hear better when in the open sea.
> 
> And here are some questions!
> 
> A guest reviewer asked for a description of Baccara, so here it is:
> 
> As a child, his wavy black hair only reached his shoulders (usually done in a bun), with a Baccara Rose tucked behind his left ear. A red neckerchief with a white cross on the left side is settled on his collar, underneath it are usually plain shirts with shorts reaching his knees and a pair of old sandals. His white doctor's coat dwarfs him and has very deep pockets, and his skin is peach from the exposure of the sun. When doing door-to-door checkups, or visiting the bandits, he wears a moleskin pouch across his chest which holds all of the necessities of a first-aid kit.
> 
> During his youth, he's usually seen holding a thin silver saber with a black hooked handle dubbed Stratus . It's not a Meito or any high-grade sword, but it does the job and Baccara makes sure to clean it every now and then, especially after using it to take out the trash.
> 
> At fifteen, he now stands in 5'6 and a half inches, with his hair going past his waist but still tied in a bun, and sometimes a high ponytail. His outfit is similar as before, with comfortable pants taking over his shorts, and Stratus not seen as usually as before from his new set of skills a la Garp's Hell Training.
> 
> A few notable traits are his silver eyes that turn gold when using Observation Haki , his fair features, small lips and the rose ever present on his hair.
> 
> If you still have a hard time imagining him, you can go to my tumblr account: nyd-needs-cuddles and look for the picrews I made for my OCs. Or find the tags 'fanart' in my blog and look there. Ilne's art of Baccara with gold eyes is also a good base, and can be seen as the cover of this story.
> 
> Another question is this: what is Baccara's sexual orientation? What about the ASL Trio in this fic? Hope this doesn't offend you!
> 
> It doesn't offend me at all! Also, he's (Baccara) currently straight, but after a few years he'll be gay. As in, rainbow .
> 
> Ace would be bisexual after he sets off in his pirate career, Sabo would be also bisexual, and Luffy is most definitely asexual. Not aromantic, seeing as he has a pairing (you can see it in AO3, though there's only two chapters there), but not at all keen in having sex. Cuddles and kisses are well-received, though! And he and Baccara has a ritual of some sort involving Eskimo kisses (rubbing noses together) as a greeting.
> 
> Last question is this: Hi! So, since the Strawhats have a specific animal, what's Baccara's? And what's his favorite food? Hugs and kisses!
> 
> *gives hugs and kisses back* Yeah, Baccara has one. A black panther. *thumps chest* Wakanda forever! Ahem. His favorite food, as of right now, are fruit smoothies and Makino's beef stew. He'll have more favorites as he goes to sea, though.
> 
> And that's it! Feel free to leave questions in the reviews, PM me directly, or send me asks in tumblr! Toodles!
> 
> Edit (12/7/20): Forgot to add, the reason why Baccara teased Dory about his ass is because ever since Dory caught him nearly 'falling', he's been keeping an eye on him resolutely.
> 
> Edit (12/13/20): So I just saw a post where bise xuality is "attraction regardless of gender" and fixed my reply about Sabo's sexuality. Hope my mistake didn't offend some people!


	6. Hoist The Sails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His sixteenth birthday has arrived, and so has a Marine ship ready to take him out to the seas of adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE you people's reviews so much. God! Reading you guys squeal about Baccara and Dory's nakamaship is so satisfying and funny, really. So, some of you are shipping them together, but sorry to burst your bubble: Baccara's gonna end up with Doffy.
> 
> Not too sure about Dory. Maybe I'll hook him up with our resident Magician.
> 
> Also, I added a little tidbit at the end of the last chapter. To those who are too lazy to click the back button, it's this: the reason why Baccara teased Dory about 'loving' his ass is because ever since Dory caught him almost 'drowning', he's been keeping an eye on our protagonist.
> 
> Other than that, go ahead and enjoy the chapter!

Today was the day.

It's the 23rd of April, and I am now sixteen years of age.

And am also bound by numerous yards of rope while being kept in a crate in Partys Bar's storage room.

"Sabo…" I started, amused and exasperatedly fond, peeking through one of the holes the boys poked in to let me breathe. The mentioned boy flinched, but resolutely didn't turn around and kept his arms crossed with a pipe in his grasp.

I sighed, leaning back on one of the box's walls, and idly wondered until when will Luffy snap and break me out of here. He never really did like being selfish of another person's decisions.

Now… how did I land in here again? Ah, yes…

Makino pitching in and putting a sleeping pill in my fruit smoothie.

Maybe I shouldn't have taught her the formula for that in case of a particularly annoying customer… ah, well. What's done is done.

Right behind me, I could hear the Voices laughing at my predicament, no doubt having heard of their plan days ago, and rolled my eyes at them in mock irritation. It's hard to be mad at the personification of the World.

During the year that had passed, Garp had been kind enough to give me Rocinante's Den Den Mushi number so that we could talk and gush about our respective family (Garp had all but given the adoption papers, but Law kept his last name), but didn't give me any ways of communicating with Dory. He said something about 'that crossed-chin brat earning it', and I sent a silent prayer for his survival.

(Somewhere in the North Blue, shivering at the snowy tundra one Garp the Fist had told him to survive in for a week, Dory sneezed and mentally cursed the Marine Hero)

Apparently, Law had picked up a polar bear Mink (he talks! He can _talk_ ) by the name of Bepo who had a habit of apologizing, a boy called Penguin who tinkers for fun, and another one who introduced himself as Shachi, a generally outgoing person determined to get Law to laugh.

Rocinante was literally considering adopting the other three, and I was supportive. Law needed more happy people in his life.

They were still unsure of what to do in the future, but were staying in Swallow Island in the meantime. Becoming a Marine was removed from the list, though.

Talking to Law, on the other hand, was like pulling teeth with thin tweezers while the patient was thrashing about.

Oh, he talked. But it was about things that gave nothing away, tasks like getting a house that's not flammable and sharing anecdotes about how Rocinante set himself _and_ Bepo on fire (thankfully, the polar bear wasn't hurt badly and still had majority of his fur intact), but nothing _too_ personal.

Well. We'll get there, soon enough. Just you wait, Law. We'll be friends just yet!

(Inside a quaint cottage in Swallow Island, a boy with faint white splotches on his skin suddenly felt dread pool in his stomach before shaking it away to focus on more important things. Like, say, looking for a ship that wasn't gaudy and easily noticeable)

Back to the… matter at hand. Sabo had begun pacing around, muttering underneath his breath, _"Where are those idiots?"_ Before freezing in place when he heard a familiar voice.

Ah, guess he finally noticed Garp, hm?

"Are you _sure_ you two don't know where Baccara is? He's not the type to be late or get cold feet." Seems like he caught Ace and Luffy before they got here. How unfortunate for them.

I didn't need to see them to know that both were sweating, Luffy more profusely. "N-No…"

" _Really_?"

"Shit, Luffy can't lie to save himself!" Sabo despaired, and I bit back a chuckle. It wasn't polite to find joy in you little brother's defeat.

Then, probably because Luffy gave away my position, or maybe Garp decided to use _Observation Haki_ to look for me, but the door to the storage room was suddenly knocked down and revealed the imposing form of one Monkey D. Garp.

I was too busy marveling at the fact that he actually _used_ a door instead of knocking down a section of the wall to comfort my now-pale blonde brother.

"There you are, Sabo! Do you know where Baccara is?"

I could see the way Sabo's mind screeched to a halt, confused and loosening from his fighting stance. I could also see the glint in Garp's eyes and immediately broke free from my bounds to stop the incoming Fist of Love with a black palm.

Glaring at the old seadog, I intoned, "Garp… what did we agree about hitting the boys with haki?"

A sheepish grin overtook his wrinkled face, and he said, "My bad, my bad. It's the old age, see. Nothing's really clear in my mind anymore these days."

I pointedly looked at the hole where the door used to be, and he went _Bwahahahaha_.

Clapping my back in a friendly manner that would send normal men through at least two houses, he bellowed, "We'll be leaving now, boys! Say your goodbyes!"

Two rabid kids making good use of their monstrous strength barreled in and jumped on their grandfather, with Sabo hollering a war cry as he brought up his pipe.

"NEVER!"

I cupped my cheek with a palm, other arm wrapped around my middle as I watched them fight with Garp humoring them.

It'll be a while until I'll be able to visit. Luffy's birthday would be next month, so I won't have to wait for too long. Hopefully Makino would be able to reign them in. God knows Dadan would only trap them in a chest until they quieted down or something.

Glancing at the sun outside and judging its position, I clapped my hands and announced, "Alright, then. Come here. All three of you." Halting in their attempts to beat Garp into submission—Ace strangling an arm, Sabo midway swinging his weapon on his opponent's knees, and Luffy gnawing on Garp's ankle—Luffy shot away from the Marine and clung on me, snot and tears falling from his scrunched up face.

Oh, dear.

"B-B-But I don't wanna! Don't wanna hab 'Cawa weaaaave!" He hiccuped in the middle, crying loudly as he smothered his face on my shoulder. Inwardly, I bid goodbye to another good shirt and ran my fingers through his dark hair. It was getting a bit long, I better tell Makino about it before going.

A warm presence on my side gripped my pants tightly, and I sent Ace a soft smile.

"Don't worry, Ace. We'll see each other again at Luffy's birthday."

He only morosely glowered at his adoptive grandparent, who pouted in return, as Sabo moved to my other side and hugged my leg, sniffling.

It was worse when we were at the docks, with Luffy hanging on stubbornly like a limpet and Ace staring at the ship as if he was contemplating on sneaking in. Sabo was wringing the hem of his coat (sewn and patched by the skillful hands of Madame Gertrude), shooting me longing glances and sulking.

The Marines watching us were torn between cooing over them, laughing at my dilemma, and rechecking all entrances in case of tiny stowaways.

Gregory leaned on the railing, snickering. "Guess your brothers really love you, huh, Baccara?" Then he grinned, wider than ever, and corrected himself, "Or should I say, Seaman Recruit Baccara?"

I gave him a Look, conveying the message that it was _not_ the time to be joking about my apparent rank in front of my very upset baby brothers, and left it at that when he held his arms up in surrender.

"Actually, it's Seaman Recruit Noir," spoke up Howard, a ginger-haired fellow who regularly drinks coffee like one would to water, waving a piece of paper—my recruitment paper, most likely. "See? Says here: _Noir D. Baccara_." Then he blinked, reread the words written on it, and whistled. "Wow, you're a D? No wonder Vice-Admiral Garp picked you up."

"What's wrong with being a D?" Asked Ace, a bit defensively. Howard, sensing the hostile vibes Ace was sending, hurriedly backtracked saying, "Hey! I didn't mean anything bad about your bro being a D! It's just that they're kinda notorious, yeah? Heard some of the higher-ups muttering about them once, so I thought they were special, ya know?" _Please don't kill me_ , was left unsaid, but everyone could hear it.

Ace's glares _can_ make a grown man scared for their lives. Good to know. He'll need that when he sets sail to be a pirate.

Deeming his answer to be sufficient, Ace huffed and looked away, but didn't move an inch from where he was surveying the ship.

I caught Sabo's confused look and winked.

Noir D. wasn't really my true last name and initial, but Dr. Sterling insisted that I be given one for 'reasons', apparently. So all of us adults (including one Revolutionary Leader via Den Den Mushi after Garp explained the situation with Dragon nearly hanging up) had gathered at Partys Bar and brainstormed ideas to fill up my form.

( _"Why couldn't it be Monkey D.?" Groused Garp, munching on his rice crackers, but careful not to litter lest he be bequeathed with Makino's ire. Dragon's long suffering expression is seen on the Den Den Mushi, and Makino smothered a giggle._

"Because, _Mr. Garp," Dr. Sterling began, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Your name is famous enough that other pirates and people with ill wishes will take it as a sign that Baccara is one of your weaknesses and strike him to inflict you pain. And while I trust that he can take care of himself, he'll be in the_ Grand Line _."_

_Slumping on his chair, Garp grumbled incoherently and stayed quiet._

_Twirling a pencil, Dadan hummed. "How about Silvester?"_

" _Silvester Baccara?" Dr. Sterling frowned. "It doesn't sound right."_

_Dadan crossed out that one._

_Makino tapped a finger on the wooden surface. "What about Kumo? I heard it means 'cloud' in Wano. It'll match his saber."_

" _Kumo Baccara? Way too different."_

_Makino didn't quite pout, but it was a near thing._

_Then, after a few minutes of silence, Dragon added in his two berries, "Noir D."_

_Garp perked up, no doubt at the middle initial, while I furrowed my brows, "Why add a 'D.'?"_

_If the Den Den Mushi could, it would've shrugged. Since snails have no shoulders, it didn't. "You're as much as D as we are in all but name and blood, I thought it'd be fitting. And Noir means 'black' in the North Blue. Simple, but it fits."_

" _Noir D. Baccara…" Dr. Sterling tried, and smiled at the way it sounded. "I like it!"_

" _Then it's decided then," Makino gave me a pen and urged me to sign the form. "Go on!"_

_Shaking my head at their antics, I did as I was told and wrote down my new name._

_Noir D. Baccara._

_Garp laughed, and took the form with a flourish. "Done and accepted! Welcome to the ranks, Noir D. Baccara!"_

" _Garp-san, you don't have the authority to accept recruits."_

" _Bwahahaha! Don't sweat the details, Makino. Now, come! Let's celebrate!")_

Deciding that this was enough stalling, I faced the other two and crouched down so I could gather them all up in my arms.

"Now, I won't ask you three to behave well, because we all know that's a pipe dream." No laughter. They must be in a real bad mood. "But I will tell you this: no matter how far apart we are in the world, I'll always come back and find you. Okay?"

Luffy was the first to pull back, doe eyes shining with tears as he looked up at me in hope. "Promise?"

I held out my pinky and nodded. "Promise."

We hooked our pinkies together, sang the Promise Song, and sealed it with our thumbs.

Nuzzling our noses together, I planted a kiss on each of their heads and left.

Waving goodbye on the _Doghouse,_ I stayed on deck until Dawn Island was nothing but a speck in the distance, and played with my now nape-long hair.

Brushing against it with a hand, I stopped short at where my rose was supposed to rest at and rubbed the back of my neck.

Since I was going to be training, it would be understandable if the rose fell and got crushed. Not wanting that to happen, I gave the rose to Makino for safe keeping, the barmaid solemnly vowing to protect it until I come home skilled enough to not dislodge it whilst fighting.

Still, the absence of it was… jarring. It had always been with me since the very start, somehow ending up in my hands as I woke up on a bed in Dr. Sterling's clinic. I would get used to it, but…

A hand on my shoulder brought me out of my thoughts, and I glance to the side to see Samuel looking down at me with a worried frown.

"You okay, kid?"

I patted his hand and nodded. "I am. Just… it's all sinking in how real this all is."

I've never left Dawn Island for long periods of time before. There was that one trip to North Blue, but I had always known that coming home would be soon, which was why I wasn't all that bothered. Now though, I was going to the _Grand Line_. To Marine Headquarters and will be staying there until I could get a station in the Blues. How long it will take, I don't know. But…

"I already miss them," I murmur out loud, and was shocked by how true it was. Ace had been with me ever since I washed ashore on Fuusha Village, Sabo was just _there_ along with Ace when he grew up, and Luffy…

Luffy was the second one I've raised as if he was my own (but he was, wasn't he?). I still remember his tiny, pudgy hands reaching out and stuffing handfuls of my hair into my mouth, before laughing with such innocence he still had even at six years-old.

I'd only realized I was crying when I felt something wet drip down my cheek, and I blinked in surprise.

_I'm… crying?_

"Why…" I asked, not really expecting an answer as I stared at the droplets falling on my palm. "Why am I crying? It's not like I won't see them forever."

"Sure, your brain knows that," Samuel answered, sounding just a tad stressed. Most likely because of my condition. "But your heart doesn't. 'S why you're crying." Tilting his head, he questioned, "You've been with them all your life, right?"

I made a confirming sound, still perplexed over my tears. I never cried over losing Granny Esmerelda and the others, but… there was never a day that went by without at least one or two of them visiting, all messy limbs and loud noise. And even if they didn't, I would climb up Mt. Colubo to check up on them and would be cajoled into hunting with them for food. Or would talk with the bandits while they raised Dadan's blood pressure.

Knowing that my upcoming days were going to be void of cheerful crows of victory over fallen monsters, of small hands shyly tugging my coat, of petty arguments asking for my opinion and so much more… it was…

"It's awful," were my only words.

This time, he patted my head. "Yeah, it is, isn't it?"

With silence reigning over the ends of our conversation, I stared at the distance where Dawn Island was, taking note of the three, blazing lights (righteous fire flickering madly about, rampant waves churning a storm, and harsh winds circling in a torrent of _sadnessangerwhenwillyoucomehome_ ) at the edge, before finally tearing my feet away from its position and hunkering down.

And thus starts my first day as a Marine.

* * *

Morning starts with waking up at six if you have breakfast duty, and seven if you don't.

I'm usually one of the early risers, used to waking with the sun especially when there's a patient in need, or Luffy can't wait for later to start another adventure in the mountains. Breakfast duty is just making food, something I've gotten used to since I have three growing boys to look after, and sometimes chatting with the other Marines in breakfast duty. Either bemoaning about the time or snickering about this one roommate of theirs who had a funny face whilst sleeping.

It's actually quite nice. A moment of reprieve before the chaos comes and cleans all of the pots and plates clean. Then after that are the chores—cleaning the deck, managing the ammo, checking the cannons, listing the supplies needed—with some training in between. Rifles and sabers, thick and curved, not like _Stratus_ , were the go-to weapons of most Marines. Also, a form of martial arts is also taught, more focused on deflecting than hurting, but with Garp's training already hammered in my head, training time becomes free time for me. Something I take advantage of by relaxing and cleaning _Stratus_.

Everyone _knows_ that Garp was in charge of my training. But they never really did know _how_ strong I was until a no name pirate crew tried to attack us.

It was the usual game: bad guys want to take over ship for gold, and kills for shits and giggles.

Of course, being the men of a Vice-Admiral, these nobodies didn't even make them break a sweat, but one of the pirates had taken one look at my (admittedly, when compared to the others) petite form and tried to take me hostage for leverage.

Emphasis on _tried_.

The pirate wasn't worth anything to note of, having a cutlass as his main weapon and using it _terribly_ , so it was easy to dodge his wayward swing, grab the wrist where his weapon was held by the hand connected to it, twist said wrist and pin it on his back before throwing him to a cluster of his friends with the same force Garp would to a cannon ball.

A few had tried gunning for me after, all yelling and charging without much of a plan, so it was easy to weave through their attacks and knock them out with a well-placed jab and punch. I didn't even need to use my _Observation_.

Then one of the crewmates, a Devil Fruit user, launched an attack that was apparently covered in honey in an attempt to trap me, and I simply batted it away with a _haki_ -covered backhand.

With a spin of my heels to move away from a bullet from behind, I ducked under a punch and jammed my darkened fist to the Devil User's solar plexus.

A few minutes later sees us tying up all the pirates with chains and seastone. Nicolas, having just come down from the crow's nest to ensure no other hostiles are coming after us, ruffles my hair with a smile and says, "Good job."

"'Good job'?" Repeated Gregory, who had just come out of the clinic with gauze on his cheek and hands. " _Good job_? Nick, he totally _played_ them out there! Like, did you see him just dancing around those idiots?" He then spun, as if trying to show what he was saying, but ended up losing balance and nearly falling over Howard. The aforementioned man gave him a funny look, before rolling his eyes and walking away.

I giggled, while Nicolas huffed in amusement at his antics.

Other than that, it was smooth sailing from there, dotted with occurrences like Gregory stealing Garp's rice crackers again and Karl, one of the cannoneers with a gape tooth, firing out a squid into a pirate that somehow escaped the kitchen.

We docked on Loguetown for a while, where we were greeted by a gruff Captain who continued to smoke regardless of my scoldings ("No, I do not care if you're a Logia. Stop _smoking_."), and saw the execution platform where Gol D. Roger was executed a decade ago.

Where Ace's father was killed.

(The Voices were loud here, all holding stories from the many travelers and Marines and pirates that had stopped here before venturing off into the Grand Line. They spoke about how a young Smoker watched in awe at the proceedings, how Roger walked to his death like a king going to his throne, how two children cried underneath the cover of the sudden rain, how Dragon himself attended shrouded in a billowing cloak)

After that, it was up to the Reverse Mountain we go.

Going down the mountain? Not so fun.

I am not scared to admit I shrieked for the heavens to hear me, but if I hear Gregory teasing me one more time, I _will_ boot his ass into the ocean. Superior or not.

At the lighthouse, Garp waved at an elderly man with a strange flower on his head, greeting, "Old Crocus! You still alive, old fella?"

Crocus waved back, setting aside his newspaper. "Alive and kicking, Garp! Who's the new kid with you?"

At that, Garp rested his palm on my head, and I made no excuse to step on his foot with a _haki_ -enhanced foot.

Crocus bursted out laughing.

"This here's my protégé, Noir D. Baccara!" A flash of something went by his wrinkled face, but it was long gone before I could decipher it. "Baccara, this here's Crocus! He was the doctor of the Oro Jackson back when that son of a gun was sailing these waters."

Roger's doctor, huh? He might have some stories about Portgas D. Rouge, then. Outwardly, I bowed, "Pleased to meet you, Dr. Crocus."

"Ah, don't call me that. Just Crocus is fine, brat."

Garp made a show of looking around, then scratched his head. "Where's that whale of yours, Crocus? He's not slamming his head in other places, now, isn't he?"

_Whale_? Crocus sighed. "No, he's sedated right now. It'll keep him from hurting himself for a few hours or so."

Garp nodded, solemn. Then he turned around and barked out, "Alright, men! We'll be staying here for the rest of the night!"

A chorus of, _"Yes, sir!"_ rang across the _Doghouse_ , and we made preparations for an impromptu campfire.

Glancing at the doctor, I resolved to talk to him before leaving and rushed in the kitchen to help.

* * *

"Hello, Crocus. Mind if I join you?"

The kid—another D—asked, all polite and smiles. But Roger was the same as well, grinning like a fool and laughing at the world. He can see the callouses on his hands, the faint scars littering his arms, and recalled the fact that he was Garp the Hero's own student.

_Dangerous_ , maybe that's what the D in their names mean.

With a grunt, the young Marine sat on a rock beside him, holding a fruit drink complete with a tiny umbrella and straw. Quiet, Crocus never thought he'd associate that word with a D, but here he was.

After a few more minutes of nothing, he spoke up, "You sailed with Gol D. Roger, right?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm surprised you know that name."

Baccara took a sip, then commented, "Well, it would be rude of me to not know my brother's father's name." with all the importance of talking about the weather that Crocus didn't realize his words until he was nearly spitting out his own drink.

Roger's son? But—Rouge was _dead_. Dead with their child. Dead in Baterilla. Unless—

"Garp took him," he confided, sotto voice and careful. "And I raised him myself. Ace has some grievances towards his old man, but… I would appreciate it if you told me more about his mother."

Taking a shaky breath, Crocus closed his eyes and struggled to keep his tears in. He always knew Rouge was a special snowflake, being a Conqueror and all, but to think that she actually managed to give birth to their son— _Ace_ , his name was Gol D. Ace—despite the Marines scouring the South Blue for them?

"Sure, sure I'll tell you about Rouge." He smiled, then, for once happy and free. No more regrets of not looking for Rouge harder, no more 'what if's and 'what could have been's plaguing his mind. "How about the time they first met? When the great Pirate King was defeated with a mere watering can."

Silver eyes (too light to be like his captain's but with the same _shine_ that spoke of potential and strength within) brightened with unholy glee, and Crocus began regaling the tales of his time with the Roger Pirates without the bitterness in his tone that had settled after his captain's death.

When the next day came, and the Marine ship was leaving, Baccara's parting words made his heart soar that he could fly towards Skypiea from that alone.

" _In the next eight years, he will come and grace the seas with his presence! You'll see!"_

"I look forward to it," he told to the air. _I'll look forward to it, Ace._

( _"Crocus! Did you know? I'm going to be a dad!"_

" _Yes, yes. I know, Roger. I'm the one who diagnosed her, remember?"_

" _Aww, you're no fun."_

" _Quiet. Did you drink your medicine already?"_

" _Yes,_ mom _."_

" _That's Rayleigh's title, not mine."_

" _Oi!"_

" _Then does that make Captain 'Dad'?"_

" _But, Shanks! I_ am _going to be a dad!"_

" _Shut up, you idiot captain."_ )

Yes, he can wait for eight more years. He'll be more than worth it.

* * *

"Since we're running a bit behind schedule, we'll be skipping Sabaody and go directly into Marineford."

I hummed, not having much of an opinion about the archipelago, and startled when the wind, for lack of a suitable word, _keened_.

"What's wrong?" I whispered, covering my mouth with a book about the three government facilities. The Voices let out a sound similar to a sob, and sang in a grieving tone, _"Chains and pains, blood and gore. The mark of the Devil forevermore."_

A shiver ran down my spine and, as if guided by a Log Pose, faced my body to the direction to where Sabaody would be.

"Mark of the Devil?"

" _High and mighty, false and proud,"_ they intoned. _"Believes lies and lets others fall to the ground."_

Swallowing the bile rising in my throat, I felt antsy enough to ask Garp directly, and was not encouraged by his vague words,

"It's nothing, Baccara. So long as you aren't assigned there, you won't have to worry about it."

But the wind was still howling in my ears, and the words 'chains and pains' still echo in my mind.

It's in the middle of the night when the Voices explain to me, blanketed by the darkness and watched by the stars.

" _Killed like cattle, played like toy_ s," they sneered. _"Of the sea, of the land, spoiled girls and boys. They take and laugh, and point and snicker."_

The last line made me stop, and my shoulders hunched up in horror and fear.

" _After all, what's the difference between them and slavers?"_

* * *

Garp was worried. While he may be a carefree old man, he didn't become a Vice-Admiral by luck and laughing at his opponents.

After asking about Sabaody (and Garp will make sure that he won't be sent there, _ever_ ), Baccara had closed in on himself. Became a bit quieter, more subdued and muted.

His men noticed it as well, with Gregory taking care not to spook him too much and Samuel keeping an eye on him from his place on the helm.

He's taken to staring at his saber for hours on end, eyes burning with a strange intensity he's never seen before, and focused on honing his _Armament_ with all the fervor more suitable for Ace or Luffy.

Whatever happened, it broke and remade Baccara all at once. And Garp's not sure if it's a good thing just yet.

Which was why he's relieved to set foot on Marineford, and wasted no time in dragging Baccara around.

Of course, his first goal was to introduce him to Senny, and was about to do so when his personal Den Den Mushi rang.

Picking it up, he grumbled, "What? I'm a bit busy here."

The snail adopted a dry look Garp was sure to be Tsuru's, and was proven to be correct when her droll voice sounded, _"Busy as in beating up the new recruits with what you call 'training'? Or busy as in partying with Whitebeard?"_

He picked his nose. "What do you want, Tsuru? I just got here and was going to introduce Baccara to Senny."

" _You'll have to do that later. There's an urgent situation here that needs your expertise."_

"Which is?"

" _Breaking stuff, obviously."_

Baccara muffled his chuckles behind a hand, and Garp was happy to see him a bit better than before.

"It's fine, Vice-Admiral Garp." Garp twitched at the term of address. Stupid manners and stupid ranks. "I'll be waiting here."

Shooting him one last look, Garp walked towards the way where his old friend was, and hoped that Baccara won't be meeting any _colorful_ individuals here alone.

* * *

I sat down on a bench in what seemed to be a garden of some sorts and sighed.

While the knowledge that slavery existed rattled me, it would do no well for me to dwell upon it when I have no power nor sway over the government. Also, I don't think they even _care_ whetherabout the morals of letting slavery continue. I wouldn't be even surprised if they knew about it, let alone made money with it.

Not bothering to withhold another sigh, I stared at the green of the scenery and—

"What's the long face for?"

—almost bashed someone's head it with a black fist.

Thankfully, I managed to stop the urge to use _Armament_ so the guy got to dodge it by a hair's breadth, and I stared at the stranger in disbelief. Both over the fact that he snuck up on me, and that I didn't even _hear_ him. Was I really that out of it?

"Woah, there!" He yelped. He was a large man, tanned and with dark hair tied in a low ponytail wearing all black. He also had a mustache and a beard with sunglasses atop his head. "Didn't mean to frighten you, kid. You alright?"

Taking a moment to calm my breathing, I let out an exhale and mused, "I should be the one to ask you that, mister."

He guffawed suddenly, hooting with laughter and tears in his eyes.

"Ah… what's wrong, mister?" If possible, his laughter became louder. "Uhm…"

Wiping away a tear, he shook a hand and was able to put in, "No, it's nothing. Don't worry about it." Before descending into hysterics once more.

It took a few minutes, but he was able to pull himself together and sat beside me. He was still wheezing about whatever set him off.

" _Hah_ … thanks, brat. I really needed a laugh." He grinned, sharp but not all that terrifying. Like a wolf baring its teeth with no intentions to harm you, if that made any sense. "So, back to my original question: why the long face?"

"Well…" I pursed my lips. Should I tell him? "I just found out something horrible, and have been thinking about it for a while now. It's nothing for you to concern yourself about."

He raised a brow, face skeptical but otherwise he didn't pry. "Why don't you think about other things? Like, I don't know, your crush or something?"

This time, it was my turn to laugh. "Oh, no. I don't like anyone that way." Frankly, I'm too busy for a relationship. But who knows? Only time will tell. "What about you? Any lady that caught your eye?"

He huffed, but the telltale sign of red dusting his ears was answer enough, and so I laughed some more. He growled, mocking but deep from his chest, and held up 'clawed' fingers, threatening playfully, "What are you laughing about, huh, brat?"

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all!"

"You sure about that? Doesn't seem nothing to me."

I shook my head, and he rolled his eyes. "Well, glad you think my suffering is all that funny to you."

Shaking away the last dredges of humor, I inquired, "Why? Does she not like you back?"

He made a _tch_ sound. "Nah, she has the hots for my co-worker. Don't see what she likes about that guy. He's all high and mighty just 'cause he's the 'best' at what he does."

I patted him comfortingly at his arm, and smiled. "Then she must be missing out on a lot. I'd rather pick a person who cracks jokes than one who's good at what he does."

Puffing out his chest in pride, the other pretends to harrumph, "Now, don't be like that. It'll hurt his feelings!" Then added, "if he has any. Fucker always has a resting bitch face."

We laughed some more at that, until a Den Den Mushi went off and put a scowl on his face.

Picking it up, a man's voice intoned, _"Where are you? The meeting's about to start."_

"Yeah, yeah. Don't get your panties in a twist."

Turning to me, he shrugged. "Guess it's goodbye, kid."

I nodded. "If she still doesn't like you after a few days, move on. You'll find someone who'll appreciate you."

Quirking a smirk, he inclined his head and walked away.

And then, because I was an idiot, I introduced my palm to my face.

"Ah… I forgot to ask him his name."

Oh, well. I'm sure we'll meet again someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop! Hello, guys!
> 
> Soooooo, the plot is really moving right now! Baccara's shipped off to Marineford first thing, and he's homesick already. Boo. Don't worry, we'll see more of the ASL Trio in the upcoming interlude! As well as a few more canon characters we all know and love.
> 
> Speaking of characters, I wonder how many of you guys will be able to guess who that mysterious person that Baccara met is? First three to answer correctly gets to ask for a snippet in the future chapters! And no multiple answers!
> 
> Now, on to the questions!
> 
> So, a guest reviewer asked why Baccara's so passive to most of the things happening around him, and if he knows the OP plotline because he reacted badly to Ace's future bit didn't react to Law and Dory.
> 
> For the second question, the answer is No. He does not know the anime or manga that is the One Piece. He's been sheltered for all his life and taken away from 'distractions', remember? He might know some of the really popular ones like Harry Potter, but other than that, he's flying in blind. He assumed that Ace would be executed and hated by the world going by the knowledge that Roger was deemed to be a Devil and loathed by all, which is correct.
> 
> As for the first question… the reason why Baccara is passive is because he hasn't been hit by any life-threatening situations. One can consider Dragon panicking to be a life-threatening situation, but even then, he kept his cool because he first disassembled all the info he had and acted upon it. Also, while he was young in the Real World (aka our world), he's already savvy enough to know that he needs to think quickly and calmly. Not to mention, he's a genius with an IQ over a hundred.
> 
> Also, he's not always passive. He got mad at Garp when he tried to give baby Ace to the bandits, got mad at the people who made Ace insecure about his own life so much that he punched a tree (without haki), he panicked when Dragon went ballistic, he also panicked when Law got an attack from Amber Lead Disease, and shown in this chapter, he was scared when he found out about slavery. So, yeah. He isn't always as chill as a cucumber, but that's because he's out facing reality after years being stuck in Dawn Island's peace.
> 
> Also, the same guest reviewer asked me not to skip any fighting scenes and Baccara's training. Which I won't! Since One Piece is about action. I only skimmed through Garp's training because the focus there was their bonding experience and such. And I'm a bit rusty when it comes to fighting scenes, so any tips are greatly appreciated! Hope that answered your question!
> 
> Another question is this: We've seen Baccara save Corazon and even talk to X Drake (lmao, can't get over the fact his name's Dory XD), will he be saving other dead characters in the future? I hope he saves Ace at least!
> 
> Now, I can't answer that honestly. I will say that he'll be saving some dead people, but not all. Also, yes, I myself can't get over the fact that his name is Dory. Sksksksksks.
> 
> Do you have more art about Baccara?
> 
> In fact, I do! I just posted a drawing of Baccara in his Marine uniform at Tumblr just last week. You can search under the tag art by author at my blog nyd-needs-cuddles.
> 
> Other than that, thank you for reading this and wash your hands, everyone!


	7. Natural

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Certain pirates come, badassery is shown, and the author leaves a birthday gift at the end (and fluff. So much fluff)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suggest you listen to Natural while reading this! The one that goes “that’s the price you pay”, “‘cause you’re a natural”, and “better be the hunter than the prey”. I’d search it, but I’m too lazy XP
> 
> Hi! So a bit of an oversight of mine, I have no idea how to contact those guest reviewers and AO3 users about their answers about the mystery person ^^; so here's my email address, which I will be deleting when said mystery person is finally revealed:
> 
> Hanasaku/ hanabi/ gmail/ .com
> 
> Please don't spam me or send me inappropriate messages/photos! You can send me your answer here directly, and for the guest reviewers and AO3 users, please write your profile name and answer in your message! Simply remove the spaces and (/).
> 
> So far, there have already been three correct answers in ffnet (one of whom I've already messaged, but had not yet been replied to) and two from AO3! Again, the prize is a snippet from the winners' chosen chapters/scenarios.
> 
> Good luck! Now, let's get this show on the road!
> 
> Edit: finished this yesterday (02/07/20) and planned to post this on my birthday (02/10/20) but I can't wait! Consider this my early birthday gift to yourselves!

Luffy was bored.

Sure, he could bother Ace and Sabo, maybe even convince them to spar with him or hunt for food. Sure, he could visit Dadan and the bandits and listen to some of their stories (stealing, faking deaths, and all that other cool stuff bandits do!). Sure, he could help out Maki-nee in the bar, but he'd probably just be distracted by the many customers or eat their orders. He drank some of that ' _sake_ ' before. It tasted _awful_.

But he didn't, because like him, everyone was feeling 'Cara's abscence.

Maki-nee would sometimes talk about something, a new recipe or drink she made on a whim, and would turn to a certain barstool with a smile on her face until she noticed that the person she was looking for wasn't there. The Old Hag would swear and scold them, and would mention 'Cara in an attempt to emphasize the stuff they shouldn't do, but would only end up sad and brushing them off with a, "Just get out of my sight."

The Doctor-guy was used to 'Cara not being around, but not in a way where he can't reach his student. 'Cara had promised to call when he got his hands on a Den Den Mushi, but it's been weeks and he still hasn't rang back. Old Lady Michelle would wonder where that nice boy that helped her till her land was, Madame Gertrude had sewn clothes meant for a specific lad who'd drop by and model for her latest ideas and frowned so severely Luffy wondered if she was hungry.

Sabo was writing on this leather-bound journal 'Cara got him more often than usual, recording all the things that happened to tell their oldest brother when he came home. And Ace...

Ace had it worst.

He'd go to the woods, alone (even when the Old Hag specifically told him not to!), and start punching some poor tree that did nothing wrong. Or beat up some of the monkeys swinging around but not eat them. So maybe he was sparring? But Sabo worried more and fretted until Ace told him to back off, so maybe it wasn't?

Windy told him that it was because Ace had been with 'Cara ever since he was born, but that was the same to Luffy too, right? Luffy was sad that 'Cara left, but it wasn't like he was gone forever.

(Windy had tittered and laughed, caressing his cheek and cooing about _"sunshine child"_ or something or the other. Luffy didn't really get Windy sometimes)

So, now, Luffy was bored. And he'd been staring at the wall behind Parts Bar's counter for a while now, and Maki-nee had apparently set down a glass of juice for him to drink. How did he not notice it?

Looking up at the barmaid, Luffy grinned and expressed his thanks. He was about to lift it up and drink it when the doors to the bar slammed open and a villager said, panting,

"Pirates! There are pirates in the docks!"

Eyes widening, Luffy jumped out of his stool and ran towards the tired man—it was Cowardly Poh!

"Pirates?" He asked, even as numerous customers shifted and muttered. Some felt for their weapons—flintlock pistols strapped on their belts, daggers kept in dirt-worn boots, needles hidden underneath long sleeves—while others vacated to the inner parts of the inn. "Really? How many? Did they have a jolly roger? A _huuuuuuuge_ ship?"

Poh nodded to all of it, and Luffy felt excitement bubble up inside him. Finally something interesting is happening!

"Luffy," Maki-nee called out, and Luffy turned around to see her calmly counting bags of flour. They were small, compact and _**deadly**_. 'Cara made sure of that!"Don't approach them recklessly, okay?"

Luffy grinned, remembering Gramps' warnings and 'Cara's quiet musings about decent pirates, and nodded. "Un! I'll be careful!"

Sprinting out of the bar, Luffy looked for the mystery pirates with a wide grin on his face.

* * *

Shanks took one look at the harbor, and raised an eyebrow.

From what he recalled, Foosha Village was a peaceful place with picturesque windmills and fields. Pirates rarely visited, none would since it was in East Blue, but there were still a handfull of people going on their business even as the _Red Force_ docked beside their small fishboats.

Maybe this vacation wouldn't be all calm skies and clear weathers after all.

"Captain..." Benn started, tone shifting into a warning one. Shanks is _sure_ that Rayleigh taught him that, because it never failed to make him stiffen like he was ten all over again and sneaking some snacks from the kitchen with a terrified Buggy in tow. " _Play nice_. They're not like those in the Grand Line."

Shanks pouted, which lost its effectiveness ever since Benn had seen him accidentally set an island on fire ("How does one _accidentally set an island on fire_ , dumbass Captain!?" "I dunno! Now, we run!" "Mother _fucke_ —!") during their earlier years, and groused, "I'm not _that_ bad! I know how to behave, Benn! Geez... no faith on your captain, whatsoever."

"I mean, he has a very valid reason not to, Cap'n," Yassop grinned, with Lucky Roux laughing beside him, a drumstick in his hand. His comment roused a chorus of hoots and whoops from his disloyal nakama, and he did what any mature adult would stuck a tongue out at them, making them laugh even harder.

"Why did I even pick you guys as my crew..." Ah, yes. He was fooled by the Roger Pirates' familial atmosphere and went out of his way to find those he felt comfortable with and were also badass. That's why. "Gah! I need some booze. I hope this place has the good stuff..."

"Unlikely, Captain!" Hollered one near the mast. "It's a quaint little village, after all!"

"Seas dammit." How the hell was he going to get wasted now?

"Hey!"

Shanks blinked, looking down and noticing a small figure staring back at him. A tiny boy with messy raven hair and simple clothes was there, wearing a grin so reminiscent of his Captain's that he had to inhale sharply and stagger back. Was he seeing things?

"Yeah? Whatcha want, squirt?" He yelled back and, ignoring the sound of Benn's palm meeting his face, leaned forward to better see their newcomer. "Shouldn't you be running home to your mom now? We're pirates, you know!"

"You're so silly! I'm not gonna run away just 'cause you're pirates!" He replied, and earned more laughter from his audience. "And besides, I don't have a mom!"

"You don't?" Was Yassop's incredulous question, no doubt remembering his wife and son. While he can't stay, he thought of them everyday. Shanks' bleeding ears were a testament to that. "Who's taking care of you then?"

At that, the grin turned brighter ( **and when he reached the final island, he** _ **laughed**_ **—** ), almost impossibly so with the way it's stretched over his small face. "'Cara does! And Maki-nee, and Gramps sometimes visits, and Old Hag Dadan, and Dad always comes on my birthdays, and—"

"Okay, okay! We get it, everybody loves you," teased Lucky Roux, but the commiserating look he shared with them spoke volumes of how they wouldn't be surprised if that turned out to be true. "Hey, kid, what's your name by the way? Mine's Lucky Roux!"

"You can call me Yassop, kiddo!"

"Benn Beckman, nice to meet ya, kid."

" _Dahahahaha!_ And I'm Shanks! I lead these bastards around the seas!"

The kid laughed then, a _shishishi_ that almost immediately endeared itself to him, and spoke with a loud exclamation, "I'm Luffy! Nice to meet'cha too!"

And as Shanks jumped down and ruffled the brat's—Luffy, was it?—hair, he had a feeling he'd enjoyed this particular stop. Who knows? He might stay here for a while.

* * *

Makino heard them before they came. Footsteps, sandals and boots, and Luffy's bouncing from here and there.

Baccara had taught her a lot of things: how to make bombs, how to shoot, how to wield blades of different kinds (the bandits helped out, and they were not as scary as the rumors had said), how to identify posion, and many more. But the very first thing Baccara taught her was how to _know_ and _hear_.

While she might never unlock her _Observation_ , that doesn't mean she can't rely on her five senses. He had trained her with blindfolds and hide-and-seek's, sneaking up on her and marking her face with black ink every time he managed to successfully spook her. So she knew before they showed up that they were a rowdy bunch, used to the sea with the way their steps swayed despite being on land and not intoxicated, sure legs that spoke of battles won, and looked up to greet the pirates with a smile on her face.

"Welcome! Who are your new friends, Luffy?"

Luffy, already so big and full of so much energy he could burst, grinned as he held the hand of the red-haired man in the front. "They're the Red-Haired Pirates! And they want to eat! And drink, too!"

"We heard you run the best bar in town," a man with a ponytail added his two Berries, acknowledging her with a tip of his head. "Hope you don't mind these idiots. They have no manners."

"Hey!" Cut in the man Luffy was holding hands with, looking more like a parent-and-son duo than a fearful pirate and a civilian child. "I _so_ do have manners! My Vice-Captain didn't raise no hobo!"

"What about your captain, Captain?"

"Oh, him?" He placed his free hand under his chin, and Luffy giggled at the exaggerated thinking face he made. "Hmm... nope! He raised a criminal instead!"

Hollers and guffaws exploded all around the bar, someone screamed, "Damn straight he did!" and Makino felt her eyes soften at the sight these pirates made beside the village's ray of sunshine.

They didn't look like pirates with ill intentions at all.

(But still, she doesn't remove the knife kept underneath her blouse, doesn't take off the pouches of flour hung on her belt. Not yet, not yet)

"Well, sit down then. Luffy, can you show them to their tables?"

Receiving a cheery, "Okay!" Makino went and started preparing for the newest additions, and discreetly shook her head at her other customers, all of whom relaxed and removed their grasps on their chosen weapons.

(Unbeknowst to them, Yassop leaned over to whisper in Benn's ear, "Fantastic service, eh?" eyeing the various individuals scattered around the bar. Everyone was regarding Luffy in some sort of way, be it with a noogie or a fond glance, but all had means of defending themselves tucked away from sight, and Benn nodded. "Fantastic service indeed.")

* * *

Sabo was worried. Well, he was almost always worried, but 'Cara had helped ease it away. So did the bandits and Makino-san.

But now, 'Cara was gone (he's not leaving _forever_. He won't. He _promised_ _ **them**_ ), the bandits were busy planning a heist, Ace was off to god-knows-where, and now even Luffy was leaving their humble treehouse to play with his new friends.

(And maybe Sabo was wrong, but he can't shake off the creeping feeling that he's being _left behi_ _ **nd**_ **—** )

Sabo has heard of them. The apparently decent pirates that had taken refuge in their little island at the corner of the East Blue. He had puzzled over their reasons for leaving the Grand Line—possibly they were injured and wanted to regain strength without interruptions, looking for buried treasure, wanted to install a base of operations in the Blues, or perhaps they're simply vacationing—but hadn't met them personally to make any sort of opinion.

He should probably introduce himself, at the very least. They _were_ taking care of Luffy, which was Sabo and Ace's job.

It took no time at all for him to get down Mt. Colubo. Fuusha Village was simply a hop, a jump, and a skip away via large, potruding boulders that Sabo had no recollection of them being there before. Then he remembered Old Hag Dadan coming home once with huge welts on her head after grumbling about Shitty Gramps training 'Cara, and left it at that with a sudden laugh.

The village wasn't that much different, even with the pirates in town. But with trained eyes used to scavenging trash, fighting goons, escaping the guards of High Town, and playing 'Cara's 'games' geared to preparing them for when they set off, he could see how everyone moved in groups with at least two frontal fighters and one used to long-distance ammunition. How Mr. Gab, a retired bounty hunter taking care of his aging mother; and Selena, an on-and-off hitwoman with a penchant for smothering him and his brothers with red kisses, were loitering in places (an open bar for those above age and a salon respectively) where numerous people were gathering during the afternoons and evenings.

He noticed how the paths were clear despite stands and vendors were still selling their goods, how boats were taken care of and anchored away from the pirate's ship from a distance, how the fishermen had harpoons alongside their fishing rods, how sacks of flour were near the docks beside crates holding what Sabo reckoned to be homemade explosives, and many more.

Sabo saw this all, and smiled, pride and giddiness bubbling up his chest at the fact that this sleepy village was a wolf in sheep's clothing, and his oldest brother had a hand in sharpening their best hunters' teeth.

(In another world, Makino would be a simple barmaid with a spine of steel from a year living with pirates. In another world, she would be sad as the captain of the _Red Force_ would leave, a small boy clutching a strawhat beside her.

This is not that world.

In this world, a little six year-old washed up from somewhere faraway had muse about home supplies and turned them into weapons for war. In this world, simple barmaid Makino was armed to the teeth with pouches of flour that could explode, glasses laced with Poppies at the rim, blowfish poison shining at the edge of her needles stitched on her sleeves, and a smile that made grown men tremble as they set afoot in her territory.

Partys Bar was a den of monsters, after all. And she had been reigning Alpha since age thirteen)

When he does find the pirates, a well-loved sound of _shishishishi_ permeated the air, followed with raucous laughter and hooting. At the center of it all was his precious little brother (the one he watched grow up, watched him say his first word and take his first step—), riding on a ponytailed man's shoulders as a red-haired, strawhat-wearing man clutched his stomach whilst leaning on them.

"By the Seas, Anchor! Where have you been all my _life_?" Gasped the red-haired man, an attractive man with rougish looks and a grin that rivalled his brothers' on a good day. His eyes, a stunning shade of cognac, were warm with sincerity and fondness. Sabo should know, 'Cara looked at them the same way.

(The stab of loneliness hurt less and less with each passing day. He still missed him)

"What do you mean, Shanks? I've been here in Fuusha since I was a baby, dumdum!" And there was Luffy, joy personified that he is. His chubby cheeks were flushed with glee, grin stretching as wide as it can on his babyish face. Sabo immediately felt his mood lighten, a skip on his step as he approached them. As if picking up on his better demeanor, Luffy perked up and doe, chocolate-brown eyes met his, shining with so much _love_ Sabo wanted to just wrap him up in a blanket and hide him away from the cruel, cold world.

"Sabo!" He all but _squealed_ , and the obvious happiness Luffy showed upon seeing him never failed to make Sabo think he could _fly_ from the sheer lightness he was feeling. "Sabo! Look, look, Shanks! That's my big brother, Sabo!"

 _ **Big brother**_ **.** Sabo thought, _fuck good first impressions, I'm gonna hug Luffy to death and ignore them all._ "Lu! Happy to see me?"

Jumping from the ponytailed man's shoulders, Sabo braced for the rocket known as a clingy Monkey D. Luffy and _grinned_ as thin arms wrapped themselves around him, grounding him in a way logic and reasoning could never, and buried his nose on the crook of the other's tanned neck. Luffy rubbed his cheek against his, yelling, "I'm very, very happy! _Shishishishi_!"

(Unbeknowst to them, the Red-Haired Pirates were abruptly subjected to their innocent adorableness and some had already fainted from the amount of cuteness overload, Shanks notwithstanding.

"Benn, Benn, I can't—"

" _Captain_..."

"Benn, I can't take it! They're too _cute for words_. I need them, Benn. _**I need them**_. They're just _babies_."

"Captain, we are _not_ going to kidnap these kids!"

"Who says we're gonna kidnap them? We could just ask—"

" _ **NO."**_ )

"I'm happy too, Lu. Now," he shifted himself so that he could see the pirates better with Luffy in his arms, and raised an eyebrow at the sight of fainted bodies before shaking it off. _Probably just drunk_. "Why don't you introduce me to your new friends?" Nodding rapidly, Luffy did just that, listing away each and every pirates with ridiculous nicknames (which they all complained good-naturedly about) and the rare names that he deemed important enough to remember (which roused another round of complaining, saying that it was 'unfair').

Sabo idly bounced Luffy against his hip minutely, used to doing the same when he was still a babe, and mentally made a list of the Red-Haired Pirates whilst keeping in mind of their nicknames. While most might see these nicknames as Luffy's forgetfulnes or lack of attention, it was actually either him teasing them (highly likely), he doesn't like them enough to warrant attention (usually, his ncknames are more like insults, which is unusual but not rare), or someone he sees as dangerous (once in a lifetime, also usually insults, but with a different intonation when he calls them. See: Shitty Gramps the Senile Grandpa vs _Shitty Gramps_ the Crazy Old Seadog vs **Shitty Gramps** and His _**Fists of Love**_ ).

Thankfully, most of the nicknames were only thinly-veiled jeers, inside jokes, and a characteristic (which means they're boring). Then there were Shanks the Strawhat-wearing Captain, Benn the ponytailed man, Yassop who loved talking about his son, and Lucky Roux whose appetite could rival Luffy's. Those whom he'd considered as important, and thus those he feels closest and most safe to be with. And, by proxy, the people he would trust the lives of his loved ones with.

(Sabo had always loved people-watching. But when one of the bandits took him to the side and told him how his hobby could be an important skill in life, he loved it even _more_ )

"Pleasure to meet you all. My name is Sabo, Luffy's big brother. Thank you so much for taking care of him!" He said with a bow, Luffy taking off his hat for him when he did so, since he was holding a particular cheeky monkey and couldn't do it himself. Giggling behind a small hand, Luffy shrieked when Sabo suddenly blew raspberries on his neck and shoulders in retaliation.

("Oh no, they're too cute," muttered Yassop faintly. Lucky Roux, who had just taken a bite from his drumstick, guffawed, "You just noticed? Captain's raring to go and adopt them already!"

At the same time, they both looked at said captain, whose face was being palmed away from their irate First Mate, as the red-haired pirate whined and wheedled Benn into adopting the 'two most adorable munchkins in all of East Blue' in his words.

"They could be cabin boys! Just like me and Buggy when we were younger!"

"No, I don't trust anyone with them."

"Not even Yassop?"

Benn raised an unimpressed eyebrow, voicelessly reminding Shanks where Yassop was at right now in contrast to his fond recollection of his family. Chastised, Shanks stopped. Mentioning Yassop, that is. He won't stop bothering Benn until the _Red Force_ gets two new kiddies to clean her decks!)

The men were quick to include Sabo into their circle of bullshit and high-tales, waxing poetry over the mermaids they've seen in Fishman Island—and had been glared at by Benn and Yassop for the nth time whenever they got too raunchy for the kids—regalling stories about other pirates, whispering the drunken escapades of their captain and how he 'went on a rampage for three days' as said by the Marines when it was actually just him pulling the seven 'destroyed' islands into a drunken tour of parties and booze, and many more.

Sabo could easily see why Luffy was taken into them, and how they in return adored this little boy from the middle of nowhere. Still, he'll withold judgement for now, and maybe he'll get to talk to Ace for more than a few minutes with this little nugget of information.

(Later on, when Ace comes back to their hideout, bruised and knuckles scraped, he tells them about the pirates from the Grand Line. To his relief, Ace's stormy-grey eyes actually registered his words and he even replied to his questions.

The downside of this was that Ace was now ready to maim or tolerate these friends of Luffy with all the fervor of a thirsty man upon seeing an oasis, and Sabo had only managed to cajole him into meeting them with a bandana he'd stolen from the Dadan Bandits.

The Shitty Gramps had remarked how Ace looked enough like his father to be recognized, and if Shanks really had been in the Grand Line since he was a kid, then it was better safer than sorry)

* * *

Ace had grumbled about wrapping his head with a dark blue cloth, but had grudgingly listened to his more logical brother after a few pointed reminders and facts.

(While he might not hate his old man, the way he looked like _him_ still brought up a boiling feeling from the pits of his stomach)

Letting Sabo pull him downwards Fuusha Village without much protest, other than the surprise obstacle course his mountain goat of a brother used as a _path_ , they found themselves putside Partys Bar where noise louder than usual can be heard even five meters away from the establishment itself.

Seeing Ms. Jolyne tap her right shoulder two times with her left finger (non-hostile, multiple individuals) and put her right fist on her left hip (second and first strongest inside, do not engage), they entered with only a cursory glance around for open exits and did the same when they entered.

Sabo was faster than him, being dragged into heists and steals by the Dadan Family as he is, but Ace wasn't trained by 'Cara for nothing. Clustered groups meant possibly easy way to knock out multiple potential-hostiles at once with the correct object (his eyes immediately zeroed into the tables and chairs near the entrance), nintey percent of the people inside were drunk (higher chances of making a break for it, since they're not allowed to engage too many and stronger foes all at once without backup), the inner circle were stationed at the bar counter with Makino-nee and Luffy (able-bodied reinforcement. If worst comes to worst, Makino-nee can kill them with her needles or create a diversion with her arsenal. Luffy was quick and small, an advantage he had almost everywhere, most especially in closed-in spaces), and others.

Nudging Sabo with his left elbow to the gut lightly (you take left, I'll take right) and crossing his arms (priority is defense), he motioned his head towards the direction their baby brother was at (I'll inform the others about the plan) and received a quirk of lips (copy that) and a fond shake of his head (possibilty of a hostile situation is nigh low).

Huffing, be scowled (keep your guard up, don't be too lax)

Hearing Sabo chuckle, he approached the pirates and squared his shoulders.

Here goes nothing.

* * *

When Shanks see the little bandana boy, he first thinks he's had too many drinks.

Because how else could he see a miniature Captain Roger in the first place? Then he takes a second look, notices the freckles dotting a tanned face and a familiar scrunching of a nose, and decides that he should probably stop drinking for now. Because he can see Ms. Rouge now, and paired with the stormy-grey (dark but bright, clear but clouded with a spark like fireworks) eyes narrowed at him and dark hair, he could fool himself into thinking that Captain and Ms. Rouge's kid was all hale and healthy in front of him, and not buried underneath Baterilla's soil alongside their mother.

(He should've set off earlier, shouldn't have wasted a second before leaving for South Blue, should've done _something_ like Buggy told him to—)

"Shanks? Shaaaaanks!" Anchor exclaimed, snapping him out of his funk, and Shanks blinks at the frown on the boy's cute face. It seemed that his displeasure was a simple thing, maybe because he stopped paying attention to him or something, but he sees his unfathomable eyes so similar to Roger's (dark but not quite, and so blindingly bright with a supernova clearing away any vestiges of clouds) and stops the first teasing remark in his lips, instead holding his worried(?) stare for a few minutes before showing him a sincere smile.

It was the same smile Ms. Rouge always showed them after a rough battle had shook the seas and rocked the _Oro Jackson_ , forcing her to hide lest she be associated with them and hunted down. It was the same smile Crocus-san gave them after wrapping him up with Buggy guiltily standing near the side. It was the same smile Rayleigh-san wore whenever he woke up from a nightmare with his voice at his throat. It was the same rare smiles Roger had after they braved a storm or survived a hurricane, the same smile he had after the sails threatened to tear and the Adam Wood seemed to almost break.

It was the smile that said _I'm alright, everything's fine, don't worry, I'm here_.

He could only hope that Luffy could understand and believe him. And judging by the grin on his face that bloomed not a second later, he seemed to be successful.

(And it was strange, to be the one giving that same smile instead of the other way around. But as he watched the boy who was now quickly becoming a permanent fixation in their lives ramble about his brothers, he felt a warmth spreading to his every pore at the faith Luffy had in him to accept his word at face value.

Still, he forces himself not go react when he hears the other older brother's name to be Ace, and squashes down the questions he kept under lock and key for years)

* * *

( _There's a man lying amongst the rubble. He's bleeding, clothes near unrecognizable from the blood and ash all over him, a pair of glasses lying broken not too far away from him. There's nothing but destruction around him, dead boadies littered about in a manner that signified the attack's carnage and danger._

_This is how a Marine sees him, barely breathing and on the last threads of his life._

_The man doesn't notice him, until the Marine approaches him and kneels at his side._

" _What... are you... doing... here?"_ Come to laugh at my loss? _He doesn't say, not wanting to waste his breath for someone who wouldn't, couldn't and chose not to understand why he was doing this. Why he fought and protested and refused to be let down._

" _A man such as yourself should be remembered without any unwanted embellishments the government will surely do," was the surprising answer, one that gained a faint smile from his dying companion. With a huff that could have been a laugh, the man spoke, "Are you sure... you're a Marine?"_

" _Yes, I am—"_

" _No, don't tell me," the man cut in. "I'd rather you...be a nameless... friend than a... Marine that will... be tainted in my me... mories as a... guard dog for... the World Government..."_

_The Marine incline his head wordlessly, and asked after a few beats of silence, "And what do you mean by that?"_

_The man stared, his gaze skyward, and answered sotto voice, "What I'm doing... is something your... owners find to be... very displea...sing..." he gasped, and the Marine belatedly put pressure on his wounds—gashes deep, holes left behind by bullets, before receiving a resigned shake of his head. "Don't... bother... anyway... The Gorosei are... puppeteers who... choose what must be... accepted and... denied..."_

" _They paint everything... as black and white... pirates versus Marines... and covers the... grey areas... I pointed out those... grey areas and they... don't like that..."_

" _Why?" Inquired the Marine, helpless but not disagreeing. He had seen the many incidents that had spanned throughout the seas. Most notable the Massacre in South Blue, something that made his gut sour and feel like puking just from remembering it. "Why don't more people criticize their mistakes? Their shortcomings?"_

_A raspy laugh escaped the man. "People often... choose to blind... themselves than... face the ugliness... of the world around... them... They're no better... than the blind... and deaf... stopping their voice... and killing the... 'wrong'..."_

_Moving his head to better see his companion, the dying man smiled, having the vague impression that ths other was frowning severely. "Hey... can you do... me a favor..?"_

" _What favor?"_

_Heaving shallowly, he said, "At my right... pants pocket there's... a small notebook... it holds all the dirt I... have on high-... ranking Marines and... officials..."_

" _I'm not asking... you to expose... them..." he added at the shock he could feel the Marine expressed, hands holding the same notebook that could very well shake the pillars of the World Government. "Just... give them to... my wife and... she'll do something... about it..."_

" _Your wife?"_

" _Yeah..." he huffed once more, dirtied face fond and sorrowful all at once. "She's a real... force of nature... and would probably... kill me when she... finds me in... the afterlife..."_

" _Let's hope... she doesn't... die so soon..."_

" _I'll pray for you, then,"the Marine joked, attempting to lighten the atmosphere. The man smiled weakly. "May I have your name, friend? So that I may wish you peace and your wife protection."_

_Bleary eyes met dark russet, and the way his silver eyes shone would forever be imprinted in the Marine's mind._

" _My name is...—")_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NYD: Before y'all yell at me, I claim birthday girl rights!
> 
> There's no need to guess who this guy is, since he's an OC, but feel free to yell at the comments!


	8. Bad Ass Mother Fucker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friends are made, enemies(?) are thwarted, and Baccara unleashes his inner D.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's making a chapter first thing in the morning of their birthday!? This bitch right here! *does the Torture Dance*
> 
> Anyway! I just realized I didn't answer any questions in the previous-previous chappie! *is shookt*
> 
> Hiya! Baccara is in the Marines now, right? So how will the other Marines react to his unholy brothers of mayhem?
> 
> They won't! Until I say so, at least. Baccara would probably have to excuse himself during meetings to laugh the fuck up and would garner a few weird looks, but since he has a reputation of being Garp's protege, they'll just chalk it up to D Weirdness.
> 
> Hiiiiiii! I love your story, it's so good! Have you ever thought of making a spinoff of a Pirate!Baccara?
> 
> Funny you should say that, because Baccara was originally suppoused to be a Pirate! Yup! He was planned to be a scallywag like his bros, should've ended up with Smoker, have akid girl named Polaris, and have Enel in his crew. I'll tell more if you guys wanna know!
> 
> How would you make the pairings work out? Also, will there be lemons?
> 
> With my procrastination and the power of God and Anime by my side! Ahem. Yes, there will be lemons. In AO3, I updated the tags (and pairings! It's pure chaos there), but I'll leave a signal when the scenes's gonna get steamy.
> 
> How do you write? Everday with a word count?
> 
> When the plotbunnies knock me out, or if I'm inspired. *in Dai Li Agent voice* there is no schedules in NYD's brain. No, srsly. It's either a fifteen-page chapter in one sitting, or just me opening and closing the MS Word app. There is no in between.
> 
> Listening to songs help me too! Preferably songs like MEGALOVANIA and Natural.
> 
> How will Baccara react to the Human Auction House? Will he not pursue a relationship woth Doflamingo becuz of that?
> 
> That's in the territory of spoilers! So I'll be vague: Eh.
> 
> And that's all! I'll answer last chapter's questions in the bottom. See you there!
> 
> Note: I reccomend you read this chapter in AO3 *wink wonk*

The first thing I was given to do, after Garp found me and asked if I had met any suspicious individuals (Mr. Funny Guy doesn't count. He's my friend now) to which I answered a negative, was to meet up with 'Senny' and give him these very important papers the old seadog had whipped out from seas-know-where (she doesn't).

Walking through the halls of Marineford, I moved this way and that to avoid my fellow Marines; all rushing, walking fastly, talking to Den Den Mushis, and generally being every inch of a busy police building that it apparently was.

Distracted as I was, I didn't notice my surroundings until I was suddenly falling on my bottom.

Thankfully, the papers weren't scattered due to my tight grip, but my forehead wasn't so lucky and I could already feel the redness on my face.

Looking up, I saw that the living wall was actually a man. A strange looking one, in fact. He was tall, give or take nine meters, and had pale blonde hair standing upwards with malevolent shades glinting eerily under the light. His clothes were bright but not searing, with whites and pinks and oranges, topped off with a ridiculously large pink feathered coat that hung from his shoulders.

(I wanna touch the coat _so bad_ )

He gave a little laugh before I could apologize or pick myself up, a quiet _fufufufu_ with a childlike amusement a certain _shishishishi_ shared with. But it made my hair stand up on its end instead, and I watched as he walked away with nary a glance.

"Be careful where you walk to, little Marine. You never know what lurks in the Grand Line, after all~"

Pulling myself together, I faced him with the papers clutched on my chest and replied, "I appreciate your concern, but I've come from a den of monsters of my own."

Stilling, most likely not expecting an answer, he looked over his shoulder with an expression of silent bewilderment and the unnerving smile nowhere in sight.

Bowing with faux-politeness, I said, "And please watch where you're going. Though I apologize for any inconvenience I might've caused you." Bowed, and left.

I didn't see the interested grin that creeped up his tanned face when I rounded the corner, attention taken and held like one would to an new plaything.

* * *

One would think that the Fleet Admiral's office would be looming and cold, seemingly out of reach and the last place anyone would want to go to on their first day in the ranks. In a way, it was, but the only reason was because it was in the other side of the building which I entered to and I was too tired from the Voices' recent revelations. Mr. Funny Guy helped, but only just.

Knocking on the oak wooden doors, a gruff _Enter_ sounded and I did as I was given permission to. My first impression of the Head Honcho by word and news was that he was a balanced, but harsh man towards those who were in the wrong. Somehow reaching enlightenment, he was called Sengoku the Buddha alongside his rare Mythical Zoan Fruit, the Hito Hito no Mi: Model Buddha. He fought beside Garp in keeping the toxicity of the pirates away and stood firm in the midst of the Great Pirate Age.

Fleet Admiral Sengoku was a stern-looking man with a braided goatee, a seagull-decorated hat, and a goat that chewed on his paperwork and most definitely not what I expected. He did seem to be doing his paperwork, so kudos to him.

Besides, it's not like the World Government can disappoint me more.

(Years from now, I will stare at despair-filled sapphire-blue eyes and _laugh_ at my naïvete)

"Fleet Admiral Sengoku," I greet, saluting as I shifted the papers on one arm. "Seaman Recruit Noir reporting in for his first day. Vice-Admiral Garp had sent me with these papers for you to look over. Though I suggest you give the third and fifth pages to your goat, as it is filled merely with nonsensical stuff about his grandsons, sir." Which, is so fucking risky? Me and Garp are having _words_ later on. _He can't hide from me forever._

Fleet Admiral Sengoku took one look at my flat face, the papers still within my grasp, and sighed.

"What did that old fool do now?"

Lips twitching (seems like all of Garp's friends are my kind of people, who knew), I replied, "Vice-Admiral Tsuru asked for his expertise before giving me an order to approach you."

"And this expertise, is?"

"Destroying stuff, sir." _And being annoying_ , but he already knew that.

Introducing his palm to his face, he muttered, "I need a damn break. And some rice crackers."

Wordlessly, I slipped in some of the rice crackers I've stolen from Garp before he sent me on an errand with the papers on his desk.

Fleet Sengoku turned to me with an expression with utmost seriousness, "You are an angel. Where the hell did Garp find you?"

Smiling winningly at the tired man, I beamed, "It was more like I found him, sir."

Opening the packet of treats with glee, Sengoku laughed.

* * *

My days continued on like that: assisting those Garp or Sengoku would direct me to, stealing more treats for my overworked boss, looking for a free Den Den Mushi to call home with (no such luck, all were too busy), wonder how Mr. Funny Guy is doing, and report the shenanigans Garp gets into to my only lone friend who can feel my pain. Vice-Admiral Tsuru was another one, but she was busy being mad at Sengoku, for some reason.

And then, like a wrecking to my boring and dull routine, my savior came.

With a giant axe strapped on his back, a surly demeanor, and covered head to toe with winter gear as hints of frostbite dust on his exposed skin, I jumped on Dory with all the energy that would've been tame compared to Luffy.

Of course, since he wasn't expecting me, we fell into a tangle of limbs and a surprised yelp I promised to tease him about in the future.

"What the—Baccara!?" Dory exclaimed, looking every inch of indignant but fond. I grinned, cheeks flushed from happiness at seeing a familiar face, and Dory blinked. Shaking his head, he pushed my face away and groused, "Did you have to jump me like that? Also, where's the flower on your hair? Did you lose it on the way here?"

Giggling at his questions, I refused to move on where I was. Rolling his eyes at my antics, he stood up and I let out a squeal when he effortlessly carried on despite my clinging on his neck as he supported my body with an arm. His other free arm nestled on his hip, sassily. "Hey, you didn't answer me yet."

Grin widening further, I crooned, "My, Dory. Did you miss my ass so much you have to carry me like this? How bold."

I cackled as his face, neck and ears turned an alarming shade of bright red, nearly dropping me as he spluttered and staggered. Jumping away from his chest, I ran and he gave chase as soon as he registered that the subject of his ire (and embarassement) was no more, my laughs and his yells echoing down the corridor.

(Unseen, a silhouette of a woman stopped from her stride, gaze locked on the two figures discordant to the hustle and bustle of Marineford)

* * *

"Seriously, where _is_ your rose?"

Lying on Dory's bed, I hummed. From somewhere inside his personal bathroom, I could hear him take off his clothes and turn on the water. "Use hot water, Dory."

"I didn't survive being stranded on a fucking Winter Island to open _cold water_ , you idiot. And you haven't answered me yet," he snappishly remarked, making me giggle more.

"So rude," I said, voice lilting. "PMSing much?"

Head popping out behind a blurred curtain, he snarled, "I will soak you. With _**cold water**_."

Wrapping myself with his blanket, making him look pole-axed, I hugged his pillow and stuck my tongue. "If you want to make your bed wet, that is."

For a few moments, he stared, mouth flapping open like a fish, before he slammed the door to a close and made a sound like a dying seal.

Bursting into hysterics, I muffled my laughter onto the pillow I currently had and wiped a tear away.

I should be getting some snacks for the poor Fleet Admiral right about now, but I missed Dory too much to get up. Also, his bed was so comfortable...

Before I knew it, I was out like a light, exhausted as I was from running to this place and that.

* * *

.

After he finished contemplating on drowning himself down the sink or the bathtub, Dory stepped out of the steam-filled bathroom with a towel securely around his waist and a smaller one he used to dry his hair. Murmuring something about 'brats' and 'hot water', he turned to his closet to grab a change of his uniform and stopped when he saw who was still at his bed and why.

Dumbfounded, he looked at the steady rising and falling of his friend's(? They _were_ friends, right?) chest, cocooned as he was in his blanket, all the while clutching his pillow like a teddy bear.

Silently, he made his way back to the bathroom, soundlessly closed the door behind him, and proceede to scream into his clothes.

* * *

"Sorry about that. Didn't know I was that tired..."

Dory nodded, looking somewhere to my right as he sat on the foot of his bed. He's been avoiding looking at me for a while now. Did I snore or something? I know I'm not a drooler... maybe I kicked something of his?

"'S fine," he grunted, still looking away. He vaguely gestured in the air. "You must be tired since it's your first week. You can crash into my bed if you want." Then, as if realizing something, asked as he finally met my gaze, "Which barracks are you at, by the way?"

"C-37, third floor." Which was nice, if a bit packed. I was glad enough to get a top bunk, and my things were kept safely in my locker with at least three traps if someone tried to open it. "The guys there are fine, but it's sometimes too noisy."

"You can't sleep with the noise?" He asked, not unkindly. If anything, he looked troubled but knowing.

I shrugged, which was true. I had no difficulty sleeping anywhere back at home. The clinic was quiet, but full of activity; Partys Bar was always rowdy, though I could still nap on the counter; Garp's vacation house was more of a death maze with the amount of papranoid Revolutionaries there, which was why I slept at Dragon's room more often that not—both because of the silence and his tendencies to slip away; and the Dadan Family's hut was full of snores and moving limbs with my brothers holding me close.

The only reason why I could feel uncomfortable is because I don't feel safe. Sad, but true. There was no one I was close with at the barracks, the Marines I served were nameless people I'd forget after my task is done, and the only people I considered as friends were Vice-Admirals busy with pirates and the Fleet Admiral who I spent the rest of my time with.

Sensing my mood, Dory bumped his arm with mine, and quirked up a smile. "Hey, want to grab some food? I heard there's a new joint downtown."

Grateful as I was, I shook my head. "Ah, I can't. Perhaps next time? Fleet Admiral Sengoku must be wondering where I am now."

"The Fleet Admiral?" He repeated, disbelieving. "You're working directly under him?"

I hummed an affirmative. "I'm more like his messenger-slash-secretary, but yes."

His brows furrowed. "And you're still in the barracks?"

I poked his cheek, and he looked like he had no idea what to do with that. So I snickered and said, "We all can't be Captains, _sir_."

Scowling, he shoved me off his bed and I fell on the floor, laughing. Huffing at me, he crossed his arms and threatened, "You pull my rank at me again and I _will_ follow up to my threat."

"With cold water? Ohhh, I'm _scared_."

"No," he narrowed his eyes. I stopped laughing, head tilted. " _With the glitter some dumbass decided to was good to prank me with._ "

Rolling away from ground-zero, I sprinted down the hallway as Captain Diez Dory ran like a predator after prey.

* * *

"I see. No wonder you're disheveled."

I grinned at Sengoku's raised eyebrow, messy as I was with my rumpled uniform, windswept hair, and undone neckerchief. Dory had grabbed for it like a cat aiming for yarn, but I managed to dodge at the last second and slam the door to Sengoku's office on his face.

From the swears I heard behind the doors, I might've hit his nose.

"I was running for my life, sir!" I gasped. "I didn't know he was a Zoan, truly!"

And it was true, though his reaction to my leaning towards the water made more sense now. He must've been a Devil Fruit user since then, clumsy dinosaur that he is.

(I ignored the remembrance of yellow bruises on his torso, and tried not to imagine running _Stratus_ through his father)

With a short guffaw, Sengoku reached out a stack of papers that I winced at. Those were a _lot_ , at least three weeks worth of work. Who was the unfortunate victim of this harsh endeavor?

Gleaning something from my expression, Sengoku snorted, "It's Admiral Aokiji, but I assure you he deserves every minute of it. Irresponsible brat..."

Noticing his sour mood, I took the papers and saluted, "Don't worry, Fleet Admiral. I'll make sure he's done in a week."

Not wanting to get his hopes up, Sengoku waved me away with instructions on where the Admiral's office was.

* * *

The Marineford's Blue Pheasant was a man with powers capable of freezing the ocean, a cool personality borderlining on laidback, and one of the strongest Marines of this generation.

He was also nowhere to be found.

The Marine nearby had told me, with righteous amounts of sympathy, that Aokiji was off cycling somewhere in the Grand Line. I was about to ask _how_ , remembered Devil Fruits, and called bullshit.

"You should just wait for him to come back," he tried to lessen the blow, but by his own expression, even he knew how unlikely he'd be coming back soon. "Or ask the Fleet Admiral to call him...?" Seeing my glare, he backpedaled. "Never mind!"

Dismissing him without a glance (to which he gladly took and ran away), I ran my fingers through my hair and clicked my tongue when I recalled I had cut it.

Cycling, huh?

Placing the stack of papers on a desk devoid of any mess, not for the lack of trying, I looked out at the office window and let my eyes bleed gold.

A simple _Moonwalk_ would solve this little problem soon enough.

* * *

Aokiji, also known as Kuzan by those he was close to, was in peace.

He had found an uninhabited island not too far from Marineford, and had hunkered down for a nap with his coat folded as a pillow under his head.

Catching pirates was tiring, but reporting back to Headquarters was even more tiring. Nevertheless, he resolved to call in. After a nap, or two.

"There you are."

Minutely freezing up, he gave no outward reaction to show his surprise and instead lazily opened an eye to see the newcomer.

The boy, barely a man, was wearing a Marine uniform with short, wavy hair and a benevolent smile upon a fair face.

Aokiji fought down the urge to shiver.

"Admiral Aokiji," he started, saccharine. "Fleet Admiral Sengoku has ordered for you to come back and complete your paperwork, due _three_ _weeks ago_." Form a perfect picture of a soldier's rest, he continued, "And I'm here to make sure that you'll finish it within a week."

 _A week? You gotta be kidding me_. Not voicing out his thoughts, he turned around and answered, "Sure, sure. I'll do it after I take a nap. Don't worry."

Most Marines sent after him were too weak-willed to talk back, or too hotheaded that he froze them to cool down as he napped. This one looked calm, but Aokiji would 't be surprised if he left immediately.

To his surprise and dismay, he didn't. "I don't believe you, sir."

"Have you of little faith to your superior officer?" He drawled.

"Yes," was the quick reply. Which, _ouch_.

Sending a disgruntled glance over at the other, he shot back, "You must be new, huh?"

Unperturbed, the Marine readily parried his words, "Not new enough to know a lazybum."

"Feisty. You a Lieutenant?"

"Seaman Recruit, also Fleet Admiral Sengoku's secretary." _Ah, shit. This is bad._

"The Fleet Admiral?" he echoed, not bothering to hide his sincere awe. Must be really strong or really smart to catch the old goat's eye. "Nice. Congrats, kid."

Without missing a beat, he answered, "If you have time to converse with me like this, you must have enough time to start with your paperwork."

 _Brutal._ Definitely Sengoku's type of guy. Also, Aokiji has to admit he has balls of steel, but this is getting annoying. "Nope, sorry. Busy with Admiral business."

"I didn't know sleeping in the job was an Admiral's business," he sharply countered. "How low the mighty has fallen. I wonder what the Fleet Admiral will say?"

 _Shoot my heart and dig my grave, will ya?_ "Alright, that's enough. Threatening a superior officier is well within the realm of treason." Not that he would report him. No, it's too troublesome. "Leave while I'm still asking nicely."

"This is you asking nicely?" The Marine—he should get his name, that mouthy brat—spoke, unimpressed coloring his features. An eyebrow was raised, like a disappointed parent. "The pirates you encounter must be small fry if they comply, then."

 _Oh, that was good._ If it were anyone but him, he'd buy this one a drink. He looked cute, too. Pity.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," and he turned the ground into ice, watching as it crawled from the frozen grass to the Marine's shoes—

He disappeared in a blur and, not expecting that, his _Observation_ failed to warn him of the pinprick pain on his neck, and he blacked out.

(Sniffing, Baccara carried the downed Admiral over his back and said to no one, "I've met far more stubborn men than you, Mister Admiral. And they were _Monkey D._ 's."

Laughing at it all, the Voices chittered)

While the sight of a small slip of a man carrying the famous Ice Admiral would be the news of months to come, Baccara paid no mind to the whisperings and jostled the unconscious man. Staring up at the stairs, he looked at his deadweight burden and dragged him upwards with his head hitting each step, much to the onlookers' horror.

* * *

Aokiji woke up to a throbbing head, a drowsy tiredness that didn't come from his naps, and a familiar Marine with a smile that would give him nightmares.

"What the fu—" he then remembered the sequence of events before he fainted, and pointed an accusing finger at the perpetrator. "You knocked me out."

Unashamed, he nodded, "I knocked you out."

"And you used _Shave_."

"And I used _Shave_."

"Are you just going to repeat everything I say?"

"Don't ask stupid questions then."

Eye twitching, he put down his hand and saw that he was behind his desk. His paper-laden desk, to be exact. He also had a pen at hand, and he can't remember if he even _had_ this type of pen. It looked like a simple ballpoint one. What the fuck.

"Does Sengoku know this?"

Seeing as there aren't enough traitors in Aokiji's life, the Marine nodded again. "Yup."

He cursed.

Mullishly sending daggers at his minder for the day, he took the top portion of the stack of papers and asked, "I should at least get your name. You know, to put you in my hitlist."

Still unshaken, the Marine dutifully replied, "Seaman Recruit Noir, sir."

Biting down the urge to throw the ballpen at that Noir's smug face, Aokiji signed the papers while he bemoaned the unfairness of it all.

Seaman Recruit Noir was unmoved, and said that if he tried to take a nap, he'd use something stronger than Propofol the next time they'd meet.

 _Dully noted,_ Aokiji sneered inwardly.

* * *

Sengoku looked at the stack of papers I had, then at the slouching (more so than usual) Admiral who was burning me with his non-existent fire powers via angry hazel-brown eyes, before asking, "What miracle did you pull off and _how_."

I merely beamed, "Propofol."

Hissing at the mention of his downfall, Aokiji moved away from me.

Sengoku laughed, loud and relieved, "I should've assigned you to him long ago! Now I know why you are truly Garp's protégé! _Bwahahahaha_!"

"You're Garp's student?" Was the flummoxed question Aokiji spoke to me for the first time in the past five days. I let him sleep during the extra two.

Grinning in a way that had made lesser men pee their pants at Partys Bar, I simply inclined my head at his inquiry.

Looking a bit better but green around the gills at the same time, he let a smile overtake his face before mentioning, "Hey, Sengoku. How's the rest of my buddies doing? Are _their_ paperwork all done?"

Contrary to what I was expecting, Sengoku looked like the cat who caught the canary _and_ the cream. "No, but I'm sure Baccara can fix that for me?"

Saluting in the middle of Aokiji's deep chuckles, my eyes curved into upside-down crescents. "By your word, Fleet Admiral Sengoku."

(Somewhere around the Grand Line, two certain Admirals suddenly felt a chill down their spines, and an inexplicable need to run far, far away)

* * *

Admiral Kizaru was easy to find.

He didn't bother hiding himself, tall and yellow and sticking out like a sore thumb. He was, funnily enough, in the South Blue where Ms. Rouge came from.

"Admiral Kizaru," I purred, not missing the bead of sweat that fell from his forehead. He had nowhere to escape from in this junkyard of metals and scraps. Not unless he used his Devil Fruit ability, which would be risky due to the amount of reflections around us. "Fleet Admiral Sengoku has ordered for you to complete your one-week's worth of paperwork. If not, I will use any means in... persuading you to do so."

I let my grin take a sharper image. " _Effective immediately_."

Gulping, the Admiral scattered into atoms of light, and I started to _hunt_.

* * *

Admiral Akainu took in the situation before him.

Admiral Kizaru: chained (with seastone), nursing a bump on his head ( _haki_ ), bit scruffed up with cuts (fast, swordsman) and pouting (defeated).

Newcomer Marine: slightly dirtied, devoid of a coat (lower-ranking, stronger than he looks), saber present (the swordsman), holding the chain connected to Kizaru's cuffs (resourceful, given permission to use force) and smiling as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

Slowly, he fell into step with the unknown hostile and followed.

"How scary," Kizaru whispered to his fellow prisoner, making Akainu glare at him with the wrath of a thousand suns.

* * *

"I'd ask you to marry me, but you're too young and frankly, Garp would kill me if I did."

Setting down the stacks of glorious, completed paperwork (given to me with an unrepentant smirk and a murderous scowl), I tapped my foot and proudly joked, "I apologize, sir, but you're not my type." Successfully earning another bark of laughter reminiscent to Garp's.

"Well, I should reward you for a job well done. You've exceeded my expectations and tested out of all of the training Headquarters could give you, so it would only be right."

Taking something underneath his table, my eyes widened as he handed me a neatly folded coat that was a stark reminder to me of Garp's position. Only that it was simpler and as large as I was.

With a slendor that I didn't really take not of from Sengoku, he announced, "Well done, Captain Noir! I look forward to your continuous streak of successful jobs!"

My surprise only lasted for a minute or two, and then I let the coat rest on my shoulders with a weight that signified it's worth.

I was a Marine, yes, but it hadn't really sunk in until now.

Saluting, I answered back, "Captain Noir reporting in, sir!"

Guess who's climbing the ranks now, Dory!

* * *

**AKSJSHJAJS I'VE BEEN GRINNING SO HARD WHILE WRITING THIS, I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED!**

**Question time!**

_**Does Baccara have a title like the other Marines do?** _

**Not** _**yet** _ **, but Garp's men calls him "Little Sheep-in-Wolf's Clothing", or "Sheep" in short. Which is funny, but true. Doubly so when you remember that Garp is a Dog.**

_**Shanks/Makino/Mihawk!?** _

**:)**

_**Art for your OCs?** _

**Here ya go!**

**And that's it! Here's the bovnus for AO3 readers (I'll post these at tumblr, don't worry)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AKSJSHJAJS I'VE BEEN GRINNING SO HARD WHILE WRITING THIS, I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED!
> 
> Question time!
> 
> Does Baccara have a title like the other Marines do?
> 
> Not yet, but Garp's men calls him "Little Sheep-in-Wolf's Clothing", or "Sheep" in short. Which is funny, but true. Doubly so when you remember that Garp is a Dog.
> 
> Shanks/Makino/Mihawk!?
> 
> :)
> 
> Art for your OCs?
> 
> Here ya go!
> 
> And that's it! Here's the bovnus for AO3 readers (I'll post these at tumblr, don't worry)
> 
> I'VE BEEN GRINNING SO HARD WHILE WRITING THIS, I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED!
> 
> Question time!
> 
> Does Baccara have a title like the other Marines do?
> 
> Not yet, but Garp's men calls him "Little Sheep-in-Wolf's Clothing", or "Sheep" in short. Which is funny, but true. Doubly so when you remember that Garp is a Dog.
> 
> Shanks/Makino/Mihawk!?
> 
> :)
> 
> Art for your OCs?
> 
> Here ya go!
> 
> And that's it! Here's the bovnus for AO3 readers (I'll post these at tumblr, don't worry!)
> 
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/nyd-needs-cuddles
> 
> Edit: should I make a Baccara-answers-ask-blog in tumblr or no?


	9. All Hands (and Wings) On Deck!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nakamas abound, and I give you all diabetes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oho? What's this? Another chapter? Ahem. I apologize, Dio took over.
> 
> I suggest you read this again in AO3 for the upcoming chappie after this *wink wonk*
> 
> KAKSKSKAAKAKA I LOVE YOUR REACTIONS SO MUCH! HAHAHAHAHAHA!
> 
> To those wondering/shrieking about Dory and Baccara's relationship: imagine Zoro and Luffy's dynamic, it's practically them. With a few tweaks, yes, but still.
> 
> And yes! The love interest has arrived as well! Also, rule of thumb in here—Baccara will always get the last word in. *shrugs* sorry but I don't make the rules. Baccara came to life and said what he said ^^;
> 
> No, I'm serious. He's his own person now. Which is both awesome and crazy.
> 
> IMPORTANT! I'm thinking of making a Baccara-answers-ask-blog in tumblr. Should I go for it?
> 
> Also, I have a 100+ Followers Event in tumblr! Send an ask for a drawing request or a scenario!
> 
> In other news! Baccara's gonna get a Black Clover spinoff of his own in the near future! And a friend of mine in tumblr was gracious enough to let me borrow their (wonderful beautiful amazing) OC, Sei to add in the story! Go check fuegoleonvermillion and hokage (their art blog) in tumblr after this!
> 
> Also, questions! (Wow, they're a lot)
> 
> DOFFY'S HERE!
> 
> YES. HE. IS.
> 
> Who's the woman silhouette thingy? (What's a silhouette?)
> 
> Guess. Also, it's a form/vague outline of a person.
> 
> Why is DraCara not canon? A
> 
> Hehe.
> 
> Does Baccara sleep in Dory's bed more after that?
> 
> Hm... not really. If he visits and he's tired, then yes. But since he's a captain (*sniffs* they grow up so fast) now, he has his own room (which Dory also visits).
> 
> Why did Kizaru smirk when he gave his papers to Baccara?
> 
> He admires his guts. Also, it's always funny when the Red Dog gets put down.
> 
> Why rice crackers? I thought that was more of Garp's snack?
> 
> They both like it, actually. I have a headcanon that Tsuru got fed up in their rookie days, threw them a packet of rice crackers, told them to eat it all because they're so much like a married couple. Surprisingly, it worked.
> 
> Okay! More at the bottom later. Let's go!

Whispers erupt wherever I go. They look at my petite stature, at the saber sheathed on my side, and at the flowing coat that settled heavily on my shoulders.

It's been roughly two months ever since I became Captain, and people still won't stop pointing and murmuring amongst themselves. Granted, I _am_ Garp's protégé, and a good friend to another quickly-rising-in-the-ranks Marine named Dory, but this could only go for so long.

Was it because I dragged Aokiji back here in Headquarters?

"Well, well, well," a familiar voice drawled, and I looked up to see the towering form of the Pika Pika no Mi user, shades glinting against the overhead lights. It's a miracle he doesn't hit his head with them, but judging from what I heard and saw in regards to the other Marines, and the many colorful individuals they housed, perhaps it was for the best. "If it isn't the Paperwork Hound. Off to bully another poor sod into making Sengoku happy again?"

Rolling my eyes at the jab, I let it roll over me with a simple kick behind his knees, making him buckle but not fall. The nickname was coined by a particularly gobsmacked Marine during lunch at the cafeteria, and it had followed me ever since. Kizaru and Aokiji in particular loved to make a mention of it every time they saw me, with Akainu also being dragged in due to his status as the Red Dog.

Chuckling at my reaction, he fell into step beside me with his hands in his pockets.

"Sengoku called you too?"

He hummed an affirmative, and I played with that thought around my head for a bit.

Ever since my unofficial infamy as the Admiral Minder took over majority of my time, Sengoku had delegated numerous of his less important duties to my office (a simple room with all the bare necessities. I should probably decorate or something... and get a Den Den Mushi. Seas know how mad my brothers and sister would be by the time I _finally_ call) and would even ask me to send out Marines on missions. As a Captain, I indeed had the authority to do so, but whether it was because I needed experience or he trusted me particularly, I don't know what to feel about have various strangers' lives in my hands.

Being a doctor was different. It had been my life's work which I soon came to love. Being able to take care and heal my loved ones gave me joy like no other.

But being in charge of people who could very well die with a single mistake?

"You're thinking too much again," was Kizaru's cajole. Meeting my eyes, he smirked, "Thinking of ways to prank that friend of yours?"

Lips twitching, I waggled my eyebrows conspiringly, "Why? Wanna help out?"

His answering grin made me laugh, momentarily forgetting my responsibilities and the looming consequences with it.

Reaching the doors to Sengoku's office, I raised my knuckles to knock when the sound of something shattering reached my ears.

Sharing a look with Kizaru, who looked like everything was fine—but his hands were out and ready to shoot, I let my _Observation_ reach out and with my grip on _Stratus_ , I kicked the door open.

What we saw was Sengoku, alive and without wounds, looking mildly constipated at a suited teen no older than me; said teen looking wholly unimpressed, dark hair reaching below his shoulders and curling at the end with thick brows; and a broad-shouldered man who—

Manners forgotten, I point an accusing finger at the third occupant of the room and gasped out, "Mr. Funny Guy!"

Mr. Funny Guy, who was wincing at the shattered remains of a vase near his feet, looked up and grinned. "'Mr. Funny Guy'? Man, I didn't know I made such a good impression. If I did, I'd have tried harder to look for you, brat!"

"You know him, Baccara?" Was Kizaru's bemused two Berries. The young man beside Mr. Funny Guy was mouthing the words, _Mr. Funny Guy?_ With an expression of incredulousness, and Sengoku was rubbing his temples. Oh, dear. Good thing I have some snacks with me.

"Of course you know a CP-9 agent. What did I expect?" Wordlessly, I slipped him two packs of rice crackers.

Tearing one open regardless of his audience, he immediately added, "You absolute angel, Garp never deserved you."

Giggling, I shook my head in exasperated amusement. "Am I correct to assume these gentlemen are related to why you called me here?"

Ignoring the young man's aborted twitch of his fingers, and Mr. Funny Guy's abrupt wheezing, Sengoku bit on a rice cracker and nodded. "Indeed. There's been an increase of criminal activity somewhere nearby the neighboring islands: specifically, Koen. A Marine dispatch I've sent weeks ago reported that there's a chance a terrorist group will emerge and wreak havoc someday during these three days. I want you, Jabra and Lucci to investigate and, if needed, detain them." Eyes narrowed, he shot the young man a look. " _Alive_."

Looking at the focus of Sengoku's ire, I ran all the things I knew about this CP-9.

Mr. Funny Guy, if I had to guess who is Jabra, was part of this secret organization allied with the World Government, due to Sengoku's ease but also annoyance of them. They're most likely not large, seeing as the one who called Mr. Jabra had stressed that he should attend the meeting, and there were only a few words in the background. I could be wrong and they were just quiet, though. They're also highly skilled, since this mission is time-sensitive and capable of falling into pieces, and possibly users of _haki_. Either or.

Facing my fellow mission partners, I inclined my head. "Good day, my name is Captain Noir D. Baccara. I look forward to working with you two, Mr. Jabra, Mr. Rob."

Choking, Mr. Jabra exclaimed, "Stop it with the Mr.! Just Jabra, Captain twerp." He grinned viciously without bite.

Eyes curving up in crescents, I replied without missing a beat, "Of course, Ms. Jabra."

Mr. Rob huffed, and a white pigeon made an appearance from the window nearest to him as Ms. Jabra spluttered. Face contorted with a snarl, he bought up clawed hands and growled, "Oh, yeah? I'll show you Ms.—"

Hiding underneath Kizaru's gigantic coat, who merely snorted and dutifully let me use him as a shield, I stuck my tongue out as Ms. Jabra faced his greatest dilemna: to chase or not to chase.

"Brat," he clicked his tongue, straightening from his slouch. "I'll get you eventually."

"I'd like to see you try," and then, venturing a guess, remarked, " _Puppy._ "

From the sudden laugh his companion gave off, I reckon I hit the jackpot.

(Sengoku watched this all happen, and inwardly smacked himself in the head.

_Why was I even worried about that D. Again?_ )

* * *

Kizaru was sent to another mission, which he complained about but relented after a pointed smile from my direction, and my team and I were now boarding a ship for our use.

It was plain and small, perfect for three or four sailors, with a large room serving as the kitchen and dining room, with another one for our hammocks and a seperate bathroom complete with whatever we may need.

"I thought the rumors were exaggerating, but you really do have them all on a leash, huh?" Jabra quipped, finally getting me to drop the Ms. with a bribe of chocolate wafers filled with _more_ chocolate.

It tasted like _euphoria_.

"Which rumors?" I asked as I nibbled on solid ecstacy. "The one that I was the spawn of a Devil? That I was secretly a mole to spy on the lower ranks?"

He snorted, cleaning his shades with a smooth cloth he fished from his pockets. Mr. Rob had headed inside, opting to check our sailing vessel, with the adorable Mr. Hattori to keep him company.

(Mr. Rob had nodded at me when I cooed at his partner, so I guess I was in the clear)

"No, the one that said you were actually Sengoku and Garp's lovechild." Doubling over with laughter, I leaned on Jabra's arm because— _what!?_ How the hell did they even think of _that_?

Grinning, Jabra answered when I was still howling like a madman, "Sengoku's brutal efficiency and Garp's destructive tendencies, albeit controlled. You should've heard the doofus who said they must've hidden you in East Blue to protect you from the pirates."

I wasn't given a chance to reply to that, because a certain pair of footsteps had made my ears perk up.

"It's more like they hid him away to protect the pirates from _him_."

Mouth opened happily to shriek, "Dory!" I pounced on my unsuspecting friend, who nearly dropped his rucksack of necessities. Thankfully, his axe was on his hand, the other which he used to support me. Speaking of, how _did_ I not get hit by his axe when I first met him again?

Oh, well. Never mind that.

"Are you going to join us?" I asked, vibrating with excitement. I haven't seen him fight before! And while there's a near zero chance of him using his dinosaur form (he's a _**ZOAN**_! Wow!), it'd be great if I could wheedle out a few facts about it while we sailed.

Grimacing at my close proximity, he gently nudged my face away with his his forehead pushing my cheek away. "Unfortunately. _Somebody_ needs to watch over you so you don't make anybody cry."

I blinked. "But I haven't made anyone cry?" When? What did I do? _Who_?

He sent me a flat look. "The Admirals." Oh.

Wait, Akainu _cried_?

"Are you done?" Was the droll question that brought me out of my thoughts. I looked over my shoulder to see Mr. Rob with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised, Mr. Hattori chirping. Jabra was looking between me and Dory, before _his_ eyebrows disappeared behind his shades.

"Huh. Didn't think you'd actually get a boyfriend when you said you had no interest."

Ignoring Dory's flabbergasted spluttering, I shook my head. "Oh, no we're not dating. Dory's my best friend." Wait, that didn't sound right. What did Garp say before about Roger's crew? Oh, right—

With all the happiness I could muster (which was a lot, because _yay_ roadtrip! I mean, sea adventure!), I mimicked Luffy's D grin and proudly declared, "Dory's my nakama!"

Jabra froze, as did Mr. Rob, but the latter recovered quicker than the former, who was working his jaw like he'd seen a tsunami coming after him. Mr. Hattori was staring at me with eyes as dark as the abyss.

Dory choked, made a sound like a dying seal (which was strangely familiar. Have I heard it before?), then buried his face on my chest. _"Holy shit, stop. I have a reputation,_ _ **dammit**_ _."_

Confused, I turned back to him and was met with a mess of his ginger locks. They smell like strawberries and mint, funnily enough. "Why? I wasn't lying when I said that, you know."

He made a dismayed groan, words incoherent against my uniform.

"Well." Jabra started, looking like he's having the time of his life. "That was something. You gonna come with or cuddle more with the midget, _Dory_?"

Glancing up slowly—most likely to not hit me because wow his hair smells _good_ —he gave my apparently CP-9 friend a glare that looked every inch of an ancient beast's.

Even though he did that, he hefted me up and grabbed his axe, before stepping on board as I tried to unravel the mysteries of his shampoo. Was it a female's or no?

* * *

With Dory and Jabra both being larger men, the cabin was a bit of a tight fix. Which was why I suggested one big hammock to make it easier to move around. After a few adjustments, we managed to make one big enough to carry us all.

"Shove over," Dory murmured somewhere on top of my head. I whined and faced Lucci (who, after getting fed up over dinner with my term of address, snarled at me when I asked if he wanted some more Sea King meat), throwing an arm over his waist. He made a vague sound like a sigh, and scooted closer to fulfill my requirement of having more sleep buddies from my time at the Dadan Bandit's hut. He was very warm.

This is how Jabra found us after finishing his shift at the crow's nest, all tangled limbs and sprawled hair. Hattori was nesting on Dory's chest, so he counts as well, but with feathers.

Blearily opening my eyes at the newcomer, I beckoned him with a lazy 'come hither'. "Th're's space at 'Chi's spot."

"'M not letting that m'tt beside me," was Lucci's complaint.

Reaching over to smack his head, eliciting a hiss that made me giggle, Dory remarked, "Stop whining like a bitch," and adjusted when Hattori crooned at the disturbance.

Stifling his chuckles, Jabra moved over behind Lucci, who was sending daggers at him over a curtain of of his curls, which became more untamed as he slept, and leaned away from his fellow agent. Satisfied with the lack of contact, Lucci nosed my hair and wet his lips, eyes falling to a close without further ado.

Dory's arm, which I had laid on as a pillow (he'll be waking up with it numb tomorrow for sure) without asking for permission, twitched, and a flutter of wings signifed Hattori's departure.

A low laugh told me where he went, probably snuggling with Jabra, and Dory's free arm trapped me as he's now free to move however he wanted. Until Lucci or I would kick him, like when we were first hunkering down for bed.

(The fact that the giant hammock was still alive showed its sturdiness. I need to buy more of these materials)

"If I w'nn' pee, you g'tta w'ke up, m'kay?"

Grumbling something like a tone of assent, I shivered when his breaths fanned my nape, and debated telling him to move (because I did _not_ know I was sensitive there until just now), before Lucci's eyes snapped open and groused, "You're making him uncomfortable."

"Wha'?" Was Dory's intelligent reply.

Lucci seemed wide awake now, eyes shining against what little light there was from the moon. Was he a Zoan too? "His neck."

I could hear Dory's brain visibly turning the gears, before cursing as he placed his chin atop the crown of my head instead.

"'M s'rry," he slurred. I patted his cheek before returning it on Lucci's waist.

"Ish f'ne." Smiling at Lucci, whose eyelids were now getting heavier, I whispered, "Thanks."

Drifting off to sleep, he hummed.

* * *

Waking up was a hilarious affair. Getting up was a chore and a half. Convincing Jabra to move was an ordeal within itself.

Jabra was half-squashing Lucci with his weight, Hattori on his arms notwithstanding (and an absolute traitor of a bird, with how he cackled like mad at our situation). Lucci was all but clawing his way out, while Dory had spooned me completely that it took me more than a few hours to wake up and save Lucci from suffocation.

Needless to say, Jabra was nursing a few new scars on his arms as Lucci moodily regarded him like he was scum over the dining table.

"Now, now," I laughed, unable to help myself as I passed the plates and utensils. "It's not Jabra's fault that the hammock isn't big enough, Lucci."

"If you two want to start a fight, do it at sea, " cut in Dory, our chef for today complete with a green apron (which I _think_ had a tiny dinosaur on the front pocket) and a spatula, holding up a bowl of pasta. _Mmmmm_. I miss _paella_ now. "I don't care if you're Devil Fruit users or not, I'd rather reach Koen in one piece, thanks."

"But they're both Zoans, Dory," I pointed out, twirling my pasta with my fork. Seeing Lucci's shocked stare, I shrugged. "Your eyes glowed last night, and since you and Jabra hate eachother so much, I thought you'd be a cat or something."

Jabra guffawed, deep from his belly and shaking his body. "You could be a fortune-teller, Baccara! Why don't you get Dory to help you out as an assistant?"

"I don't trust fortune-tellers," was Dory's dry retort. "Too many hubaloo and too little information. It'd drive me insane if I get another vague fortune like: _you will meet your heart's desire, while your future is already by your side._ " With that specific line, he added, "Second worst day of my life."

"What's your first?" I asked, since he was in the sharing mood. Jabra was already shovelling his food with an intent gaze, and Lucci had an ear towards his direction. Hattori had even looked up from his bowl of spaghetti, so he better not disappoint the bird which took a picture of our slumber party just because he could.

(I need to get a copy of it. What do pigeons like?)

With a face of someone who regretted everything that led up to this moment, he sourly commented, "Donquixote Doflamingo."

I paused in my eating. "The _who_ now?" You mean, like from the novel? The one with the overworked donkey? Wait, wasn't Roci— " _Donquixote_? A pirate?"

He nodded, lips downturned. "Yeah, that one. Why?"

I went through my mental folder of North Blue Wanted Posters, because the tone in Dory's voice showed that he knew him more than a passing hearsay, and stopped short at the mental image it showed.

Blonde. Tanned and tall. Shades.

_Pink feathered coat._

"Oh," I said, somewhat lost. "I bumped into him on my first week at Marineford."

Dory's turquiose-blue eyes widened, and Lucci's head snapped at my general area so quickly I'm unsure if his neck was alright. Jabra's fork clattered on his plate, and Hattori hooted worriedly.

Uhm—

"Did he do anything to you?"

"No, but—"

"Nothing?" Was Lucci's snappish intervention, making me meekly nod. If this was how he looked like when he's truly mad, then maybe he didn't hate Jabra. Much. "Nothing at all? You're positive?"

"Yes... I immediately went to Sengoku's office. Why?"

"Because he ate the Ito Ito no Mi," Jabra intoned gravely. He looked different, all rough lines and dark shadows. I inwardly frowned. "And if the rumors that he's active in the underground is true..."

"You didn't get hit by his move, _Parasite_?" Dory pried, looking more harried than I've ever seen him before. "No stiffness in your limbs?"

"No." I see, the Ito Ito no Mi, huh? A dangerous fruit indeed, and with a mastermind for a user...

Wait.

"Dory..." I said, as the pieces finally, _finally_ form up the picture I was missing. Eyes burning with the familiar sensation of _Observation_ , more out of habit than necessity, I demanded, "Was he the one who trapped a part of Minion Island a year ago."

Was he the one who killed the Barrels Pirates?

The one who attempted to kill Rocinante?

_The one who nearly cost Law his_ _**life** _ _?_

Without flinching from my command, he nodded.

(A _zap_ like lava trickled down their backs, making their hair stand on its end and pupils shrink, but I was too busy seething to notice)

"I see," I gritted out. It'd be best if I avoid him, from now on. Only the knowledge that Rocinante and Law were safe somewhere with their three new family members stopped me from punching something. And the fact that he killed Dory's pathetic excuse of a parent, whether by coincidence or planned decision. "Excuse me, I'll go catch our lunch."

Finishing up my breakfast, I unbuttoned my uniform with my coat on my chair, and dived onto the waters without minding my just-filled up stomach.

The blue of the seas would always be a sight to behold, but now I swam deeper before I lost it.

" _People praying on their knees but no one there to hear, ah, look down at all the puppets here..."_

They sang, sotto voice and resigned.

" _Ah, look up at all the_ _ **puppeteers**_ _..."_

* * *

After beating up a few Sea Kings and bringing one up for later, Jabra waited for me at the edge of the boat and handed me some new clothes.

Changing into it after drying myself, I practically dove into Dory's chest from where he sat on deck, with Lucci's shirt on me, slightly large than mine. Maybe Jabra took it by mistake, since our frames are similar.

(He didn't)

Wordlessly, he accomodated for his newest limpet and pressed his cheek on my head, reading a book about astrophysics like it was normal. For him, maybe. Why astrophysics, I hadn't the slightest idea, but I was channeling Ace and wanted to feel somebody other than me.

(Or maybe I had already been touch-starved during Before, and didn't notice it due to my brothers being with me)

After a few moments of just _being_ , I spoke up, "I'm not killing him."

"Shame," Lucci mourned, looking as deadpan as ever. Dory nodded, whether at my statement of Lucci's bloodthirstiness, I didn't know.

Jabra came out with more chocolate-filled wafers, and all was good.

(And if Dory lazed around with Jabra's jacket, and Lucci was sunning with his hair tied with my neckerchief, and Jabra had a leather belt I've seen on Dory's closet around his jeans, then it was nobody's business but ours)

—

.

When we finally reached Koen, it seemed like we've been travelling together for years instead of the single-digit days we had.

"We need to be undercover, right?" Jabra mused, wearing a burnt orange shirt with the words _Limited Edition_ on bold and white. I can't rack my head for when I bought that for Dory, but it suited him just fine with his jeans and stolen belt. The running shoes were a good addition as well.

Dory fixed the shades he snatched from Jabra, looking like a gangster with his black leather jacket over his olive green top plus equally black pants. He complained about the tightness hugging his thighs and calves, but since he could do a split (Lucci had dared him to), he didn't get to change either way. At least he had Lucci's steel-toed boots. "Should we decide names as well?"

"No need, but refrain from calling eachother verbally," was Lucci's answer, clad in a burgundy vest and a white button-up with the sleeves folded up to his elbows. The dark grey slacks and brown dress shoes made him ready for a photoshoot, especially since he left his tophat and let his hair down (it was so _soft_ ).

I, on the other hand, had been forced into Lucci's purple turtleneck and white jeans, thrown at with a pair of dark red flared-up boots, and bullied into carrying our items with a messenger bag the same shade as Jabra's chestnut-brown eyes.

Yes, we garnered a few looks (and some appreciative double-takes), but it was nothing we haven't experienced before.

"We should carry a Small Den Den Mushi before we go shopping," I cheerily added in, just the normal amount of peppiness that made Lucci's eye twitch. Clinging on Dory's arm as Jabra snickered, I grinned, "I'm hungry, I heard there's a good ice cream stand a little over there."

"You're hungry and you want _ice cream_?" _In the middle of a Winter Island_? Was left unsaid. Huh, he mst really hate Winter Islands after Garp sent him on that survival mission.

"No," I sighed, dejected. "I missed my brother's birthday, so I'm stress-eating instead of, say, _Moonwalking_ back to the East Blue to beg for his forgiveness."

Jabra winced. "Oh... no wonder you kept on clinging on Lucci last night."

Lucci frowned, remembering vividly how I didn't let him get up to even bathe until he had grudgingly brought me with him in the shower. I think we nearly gave Dory an aneurysm when we came out, Jabra's explosive _Congrats!_ not helping.

Fun times. I think Hattori had another photo of that too.

Speaking of Hattori, the little fella had been sent for recon, and was still nowhere in sight.

"Then we'll look around in the marketplace," Dory compromised. I grinned. "But no buying me stuff. It's enough that I don't even know whose underwear is whose now."

"I wear boxer briefs, Lucci and you wear the normal underwear, and Jabra doesn't," I listed off, making Dory have his nth heart attack while Jabra yelped at being exposed, Lucci a judgemental watcher of the proceedings.

"And how did you..."

"It's pretty easy to see." In a doctor's point of view, Jabra was bigger than average, and I had already seen Dory in his underwear from the amount of times I'd slept over his room. Lucci's was because I helped folding the laundry.

Smirking in sadistic approval, Lucci winded an arm around my shoulders and whisked me away from our beet-red companions.

* * *

I had a glimpse of Lucci's softer side at least three times.

I had wagered a guess that he was the 'uptight motherfucker' Jabra had complained to me when we first met, but he was more humane than he led others (and himself, even) to believe.

First was the way he catered to Hattori's needs, and let himself be preened by his partner. Second was his willingness to humor my and Dory's whims when we were preparing for bed, although he tried to push us away with silence and a blank stare.

Third was when he rinsed me carefully like I was glass this morning, lips pursed at my uncharacteristic quietness.

With the air of someone who was a marshmallow on the inside, Lucci guided me away from the sweets shop and to the deep neck of the colorful marketplace.

Koen was a relatively small island, but its people were rich with traditional foods and festivities. Today, for example, was to celebrate the sacrifice Fai Guan had made for their admission of their sins and let himself be killed for the sake of his family after they turned over a new leaf.

It was a pleasant surprise to hear about a god with no gender, and it had lifted my spirits up admirably.

"See anything?"

I made a noncommital sound, looking for anything interesting and the familiar plummage of Hattori's feathers.

Then I saw it. It was bright, it was eye-searing, and it wasn't even for the right brother I was thinking of—

"That?" Asked Lucci, skeptical as I all but bounded over the hat stall.

Lifting it from its stand, I traced the upward curve of the orange cowboy hat and its red beads. It reminded me strongly of a certain bandit boss, and giggled at the two emoticons nestled between it. Admiring the carving of an animal's skull that hung from the cord, I grinned at the sleepy shopkeeper.

"I'll take it!"

—it was _perfect_ for Ace.

Nodding off, the shopkeeper attempted to bag the item when—

_**BOOM!** _

"What!?" Someone shouted, and I let gold overtake my eyes just as Hattori flew into Lucci's face, wings ruffled and tie askew.

I didn't need to hear his distressed squawks to know what happened.

" _ **HAHAHAHAHA!"**_ A voice echoed across the town. The nearby Den Den Mushis used for announcements quirked up a slimy grin, all blades and misfortune. _**"BOW DOWN BEFORE THE JUDGEMENT OF LAIFEY!"**_

Filing away the name under a mental box for later, I let the cowboy hat hang behind me and fastened the cord near my collarbone.

Looks like sightseeing would have to wait. Pity.

* * *

**Whoop! Let's crack those skulls!**

**More questions!**

_**I wonder if Mihawk and Baccara would fight?** _

**Depends. Mihawk is the World's Strongest, but he doesn't go out of his way to challenge contenders. And Baccara's goal is to protect his brothers for as long as he can. Though, if they're friends or Mihawk became interested, they might spar (read: shake the earth) and go hang out afterwards.**

_**Wait, why did Baccara jump so many ranks?** _

**Because paperwork, mostly. He's also Garp's protégé, who is infamous for being eccentric but ridiculously strong. His strength is confirmed from the numerous reports by Garp's men, which is why he doesn't do the normal training routine showed in Helmeppo and Koby's flashback. He's literally too strong, since he's been fighting since he was six (against Grand Line large beasts, to be in fact)**

**Also, paperwork is included in reports, which are vital in running an organization. Unless it's really important, none of the Admirals sans prolly Akainu would finish it in time, which is why Sengoku is very stressed. With Baccara lightening his workload, making him generally happier and more relaxed, he oiled the rusty machine that was Marineford, and was rewarded for that.**

**Other reasons for his promotion include: his relationship with Tsuru and Dory, a quickly-rising-in-the-ranks Ancient Zoan; his medical expertise since age six, which is rare amongst high-ranking officers; him knocking out Aokiji (with the element of surprise), catching Kizaru (who is literal Light), and subduing Akainu passive-aggressively (and I quote, "how scary").**

_**I saw your post in tumblr and—BACCARA IN BLACK CLOVER!?** _

**Eeeyup! It's more of a merging between the two universes, since I needed to tweak a few things here and there.**

**Also, Dory's not Baccara's Zoro. My mistake. He's** _**Nami** _ **, while Jabra and Lucci are his Sanji and Zoro, respectively. And Hattori's Ussop, albeit a little shit with more tendencies to blackmail people.**

**And that's it! Look forward for Valentines, because I'll be posting a gift for you all!**


	10. Hear My Call (Oh Sweet Child Of Mine)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Romans! Hear m—shzzzzt sorry, wrong channel. Hem, hem. (Omg why did I do that eww)
> 
> Hey, there! Happy Valentines, fellow singles (lmaooooo) Hehe, don't worry, I have gift for you guys... you'll see before the start of the chapter. I can only post it at AO3 tho!
> 
> Question time!
> 
> What did you mean by double birthdays? Were you born twice?
> 
> Pfft, no. There's the standard birthday, aka when you were literaly born, and then there's the one based on the Lunar Calendar. Since my Chinese birthday is always after Chinese New years, it's easy to keep a track of it, tho I didn't notice it was my second bday until I realized why mom was making noodles *facepalms*
> 
> Oh no... now I ship Baccara with Lucci and Jabra too T^T
> 
> Awww... don't worry, I do too.
> 
> I thought you don't have an update schedule?
> 
> I don't. This week is just very fun and relaxing *ignores mountains of petas*
> 
> Ohhh tell me more about Pirate!Baccara. Did you really first decide to pair him up with Smoker?
> 
> Yup! The Pirate!Baccara is actually more like the Baccara around Dory and the others: crazy and unapologetic, but mature and caring. He's still the eldest brother of the ASL Trio, but he set out at seventeen, dodged Garp by hiding at Baltigo, and likes to return to Lougetown, where a very irate Smoker is stationed.
> 
> The first time they met, Smoker had ordered him to get the hell out of the way, since there were pirates running amok (oh the irony), and Baccara had cheekily answered back with an "aye aye captain!" Before starting a running commentary about the fight. Verbally.
> 
> Needless to say, Smoker isn't very fond of him. Yet.
> 
> Stuff happens, Ace sets sail, Baccara threatens Whitebeard, then Sabo goes to RA with Dragon, and then Baccara threatens him again, Canon kicks in with Luffy leaving, and he meets up with the Strawhats somewhere around Skypiea where's he's chilling.
> 
> The kid, Polaris, is a girl who was born in slavery. Baccara loses his shit, goes into hiatus by camping out at Smoker's (who's hard-pressed to refuse a child, and Baccara was desperate ok?) for a few years (not timeskip, this is somewhat pre-canon-and-mid-canon), where love blooms and the entirety of Lougetown knows the Marine Captain is in love with the Captain of the Baccara Pirates, but they have a betting pool about their getting together, opposing sides be damned.
> 
> Oh, and Enel is a pretty decent uncle in this AU.
> 
> I noticed that the name Paperwork Hound was given by a reader. Are there any other nicknames?
> 
> Yup! There's Moonflower, someone named the quartet BASL (pronounced as Basil, like that supernova), and one even admitted they'd only had Baccara for a while but would kill everyone in this site and then themselves if anything happened to him.
> 
> Okay. Gift time! Ffnet readers, move to AO3 for a mo for the link to work! Go, go, go!

<https://nyd-needs-cuddles.tumblr.com/post/643061450025435136/my-brain-let-them-be-happy-my-heart-let-them-be>

* * *

"Evacuate the island, we can't risk any casualties!" I yelled to the Den Den Mushi on my palm, with Dory nodding an affirmative as Jabra yelled in the background.

Lucci had already slinked into the shadows, Hattori his eyes in the sky as I usher the shopkeeper of the hat stand away.

"Before you go, can you tell me about this Laifey? That doesn't sound similar to Fai Guan." The shopkeeper looked understandably rattled, but complied with a few sentences.

"Laifey is considered as the antagonist in Fai Guan's path to redemption, you see." He wrung his hands, sweating bullets at the screams of terror and explosions around us. I snapped my fingers in front of him. No sense to let him panic. "S-She asked them questions about their change of heart, and offered scenarios of power they could attain if they joined her in changing the world."

"And they refused?" I asked, noting the term 'considered'.

The shopkeeper shrugged. "I don't know. The next transcript had been ripped off. But the ending was with Fai Guan dying in front of their ancestors' burial temple, and the world was normal. So there are a lot of theories about their relationship."

"How did they die?"

"I don't know."

My eyebrow twitched. "R-Really! The legend says that they disappeared into a flurry of petals. It's why the cosmos is considered as the heroes' flower around here."

I frowned, tilting my head to dodge a stray sharpnel. The shopkeeper gulped.

"Anything else?"

"Uh..." he swallowed. "They're single?"

Witholding a sigh, I pushed him into a nearby alleyway and called Dory again, breaking into a sprint.

" _Yeah?"_

"The terrorists mentioned Laifey, a woman who is _thought_ to be Fai Guan's enemy." His brows—the snail's, actually—furrowed as he grunted, the _schwiing!_ of his axe a comforting backdrop. Good, he noticed it too. "There are missing parts surrounding it, but Fai Guan died in front of their ancestors' burial grounds in a flurry of cosmos petals. Laifey is never referred in it again."

" _You think their base of operations is there?"_

"One of it, possibly." I dragged a passerby to the side, then threw them into a just-appeared Marine's arms. The squad that Sengoku sent, huh? "Worst case scenario, they're not there and it's rigged. So be careful."

" _Don't worry, twerp!"_ Came Jabra's gleeful addition, just as somebody shrieked in pain. Oh, dear. _"We'll take care of it!"_

" _The Fleet Admiral said to keep them_ _ **alive**_ _."_

" _He didn't say anything about maiming!"_

" _Jabra, be serious for once—"_

" _I_ am _being serious. See?"_ Another yell, this one tapering off into sobs. _"Only broken bones!"_

" _Why you impudent mutt—"_

" _Wanna go at it, you overgrown lizard—?"_

"Girls, girls, you're both pretty." I cut in, only realizing too late that it came out as a growl. Never mind that. "If I hear you two fight amongst yourselves, I'll show you _exactly_ why the Admirals don't cross me. Am I _understood_?"

Two responses of _yes, sir_ 's rang out in their silence, and I hung up.

Eyes searching for any more stragglers, I jumped on top of a salon's rooftop and let my senses stretch as far as it can.

Fifteen kilometers was my best range with minimum mistakes, areas further than that aren't as specific as I wanted it to be. I need to train more...

Shaking that thought away for later, I focused on the town and hummed at the large groups of lights moving to the harbor. Good, the evacuation is going well.

Dory, a green star alongside Jabra's dark grey plumes, was in the middle of some hostiles, but didn't seem to find the need to use his Devil Fruit, and was swinging his arms in a way that showed he was weilding _Draconius_ around. Jabra was a flurry of action, _Moonwalking_ here and there whilst taking down numerous groups with probably more force than necessrily needed.

Lucci's was harder to find, since he was smothering his Aura, but I could see a faint flicker of mustard-yellow, winking within my mind's eye as he dragged his opposition like something straight out of a horror movie. Hattori was circling overhead, a sky-blue streak of sharp talons and a bullet-like beak. How Lucci trained him to use _Finger Gun_ —or rather, _Beak_ —I didn't want to know. It was enough that he tried to drill Jabra's family jewels off when he plucked a feather on accident.

There was a gathering of some sorts in the eastern coast, where deliveries were made (if I was to believe the tourist pamphlet), and I headed there with a boost of _Moonwalk_.

* * *

To say I hit the jackpot was an understatement. But I'd rather not kick the anthill just yet, and hid out of sight.

They were all men and women of different statures: tall and broad, thin and short, old and young. They wore blood-red robes with gold hemmings and pendants the seemingly signified their ranks. So far, I caught glimpses of a hawk (majority, lowest ranking), a crow (only a couple, third highest), a raven (minority, second highest) and a lone dove (head leader). Strange use of avians, but nothing I've never seen before.

"My brothers and sisters," the dove-wearing man, the one who hacked the broadcast, started with his arms open wide. From this far away, I could only see a burn mark on his neck stretching to his cheek. "The time has come. Laifey has been awaiting our answer, and answer we will!"

Silence, an encompassed pressure of faith and something _else_. The Voices chittered.

"From now on henceforth, we shall rise and show the world our might!" He pumped a gloved fist, and roared, _**"We will not cower in the dark any longer! We will reclaim our rightful place amongst the Heavenly Plains!"**_

" _ **FOR LAIFEY, OUR GUIDE AND LIGHT!"**_

" _ **FOR FAI GUAN, THE LOST BUT BRAVE!"**_

" **FOR KOEN!"** he rumbled, and his voice lowered, but was nonetheless every bit of commanding. It was like listening to a speech before the war, and in a way, it was. **"For our** _ **home**_ **."**

And as they clamored and clanged their weapons and clapped their hands, I furrowed my brows.

There's something deeper going on here. What, I'm about to find out.

* * *

Dory cursed, flicking his wrists to throw a dagger he nicked from the messenger bag Baccara held (and he squashed the urge to call him—they've agreed that he and Lucci were to spy the enemy's movements. He didn't want to compromise his position), and didn't waste a second if it hit its target.

There were more pressing matters at hand.

"Jabra!" He shouted, Baccara's reminder ringing loudly in his head. "If one of them isn't breathing for at _least_ second—"

"Yeah, yeah. You'll chomp my head off." Jabra whistled as he went, slamming two heads in quick succession. He stepped on a groaning man's arm, and punched a woman's solar plexus with nary a moment's hesitation. There was no discrimination here, no siree! Plus, it'd be rude not to fight them. "I thought Baccara was the mom?"

"At this point, he might as well be the _baby_." Dory gritted out, trying to pull out _Draconius_ out of a wall. Damn bodybuilders and their fucking muscles. Finally freeing his weapon, he swung it around and blinked when it knocked out a teen who had charged with a battle cry. "But that baby's practically our commanding officer in this mission, so _move._ "

Rolling his eyes, Jabra ducked and let Dory punch the fat warrior with a well-placed right hook. _Oohhh_ 'ing at the admirable show of relfex (and _wow_ , that's gotta hurt), he grinned. It was not a nice one. "Miss him already?"

Snarling at him, he ignored the way his cheekbones flushed and jumped into the fray.

* * *

Lucci was in the vents. Not a place he'd been to, no, but it was quite comfortable. Wouldn't hurt for it to be _less_ dusty, though.

Hattori slapped him with a wing.

_Focus,_ he chirruped. And he huffed before complying.

He'd been watching Baccara approach the leader since they somehow ended up at the same place, seeing as Lucci had been _way_ over at southwest, and laid in wait. He could trust Baccara not to screw this up.

Mostly.

"And who are you, stranger?" The leader asked, not hostile but wary. His followers all ahd their arsenal out in the open, which was both an advantage and not. Baccara was Fleet Admiral's secretary before he was made Captain, after all. And before _that_ , he trained under Garp of all people.

Repressing a shudder, he tuned back.

Baccara was still clad in his clothes (and something within Lucci _purred_ at that), and his kunckles were white against the leather strap of his bag. Not out of fear, but of contemplation. His fair face was a blank slate of calm, silver eyes glazed over in thought but still alert with the way his fingers twitched on his side.

"I have a question, if you wouldn't mind. I have sought your people out for this sole purpose."

The leader was contemplative, before giving a gracious nod. Lucci hummed. So, not a battle-crazy maniac. Good to know.

"Speak, newcomer. What is it that you seek?"

"I've come to this island on a vacation, and had heard of Fai Guan's tale." He licked his lips, and continued. "They say that his story is not complete, and I've heard your cries to the heavens. Might I ask your wisdom of this?"

A chuckle came from the leader. Amused, impressed. He gestured to those looking up at him, and said in a glad tone, "Hear this, my siblings? One not of our own has come for enlightenment. He is surely blessed by Laifey's kindness."

_Get on with it already,_ Lucci thought, frowning. Hattori slapped him again.

"Very well, I shall reward your daring with the words bequeathed to me." He raised a palm, upwards to the ceiling and Lucci shifted further inside. "They say Fai Guan had been tempted by Laifey, did they not? I won't hold that against them, for even I once thought of the same thing."

_A local then_ , Lucci concluded. _Or a family member of one_.

"But that is rubbish!" He suddenly exclaimed. Lucci and Baccara did not jump, nor show any indication of their shock. Hattori was preening his feathers. "For Laifey was not, in fact, a personification of evil—she was simply a messenger of greater heights! A prophet, a shepherd to the wandering sheep."

"She weighed his thoughts, and did not lay judgement at all." He became solemn, almost reverent. "She aksed if they wanted to change the world, because she saw their potential."

"And they said no," Baccara continued, eyes soft. "For their family."

"Indeed, my comrade." Whose _what_ now? "You seem to feel deeply for Fai Guan. Have you perhaps left your heart to your life and love?"

Smiling, Baccara touched the animal skull emblem on the cowboy hat he bought. "Yes, but they've given me theirs in return. So I can venture forward for longer."

"Incredible," the leader gasped out, sincerely awed. "Are you sure you're not sent by Laifey herself?"

"No," Baccara demured, bowing his head. "I am simply one man."

Wherever that conversation would've led to, Lucci didn't know, because another explosion shook the island, and the leader cursed.

"My friends!" He said. "My army, my family in all but blood. Set off in your journey in Laifey's footsteps—guide and survive!"

"Most of them have been evacuated into ships," added Baccara, eyes glittering gold. Sharp intakes of breath came up around him. "Your move, leader."

The mentioned man seemed to be speechless, before he straightened and inclined his head, almost dipping his entire upper body in deference. "Lead us, soldier."

The rest of the robed individuals did the same, and Baccara looked stunned. But Lucci was only smug, Hattori hooting beside him.

As expected of the Admiral Minder.

"Let us go, then." And dialing his Den Den Mushi, he left.

Unbeknowst to the Government affiliated officers, the leader—on Marx Opal—murmured to himself with tears in his eyes.

"By your word, _**Fai Guan**_."

* * *

While the situation was... strange, I didn't look the gift on the horse's mouth and led my apparent supporters outside.

Dory and Jabra had already been informed (with the former beffudled and the latter _wheezing_ in laughter), as was the dispatch team Sengoku had sent, and their combined efforts had emptied out the island quicker than you could say _Meat_ at Mt. Colubo.

Clutching the hat bouncing on my back, I swore to find a Den Den Mushi that was solely mine after all of this was over. Even if it _killed_ me.

"Curious one!" A believer called, and it took me a moment to realize it was me. Shooting her a look, she reported, "The bombers have been detained, but the explosives are still at large!"

_So they_ _ **were**_ _framed._ Typical. Make the morally grey painted black, and the bastards get away with nearly everything.

"Good work!" She beamed, practically growing. And was she—was she _holding back her sobs!?_ "Rest, and assist with the wounded!"

"By your word!" And she left, leaving me unbalanced at her exaggerated reaction. What the fuck?

"Baccara!" Dory yelled, pulling me out of my thoughts. Weird. "Where's—"

" _Holy bejeezus!"_ yelped Jabra, who had been clutching his stomach before Lucci decided to jumpscare him intentionally, judging by the smirk on his mouth. Troll. "Why'd you have to sneak up on me like that!? I almost died, you shithead—"

"Jabra, I love you, but stop." He clamped his mouth shut, disgruntled. Lucci was still smug, so I turned to him next, "Lucci, refrain from being childish."

Lips tugging downwards, he nodded mulishly. Hattori crowed. Loudly.

Seeing as Hattori is his own bird, and therefore an absolute jerk that I can't even hope to control, I brushed him off and stated, "There are still bombs around, but the people are alright. Prioritize your safety first, and throw the bomb as high as you can in the sky if you can't dismantle it." This I pointedly said to Dory, because Seas know what the Cipher Pol agents were taught (she doesn't), and he grunted a postive.

Rolling my shoulders, I accepted _Stratus_ from a Marine's hands and faced the town. "Let's clean up, shall we?"

* * *

Hours have passed, and the bombs were still _missing_.

There were a few smaller ones found, which were then handed over to experts or yeeted (or whatever that meant) away as quick as a tropical storm, but there were still _more_.

Skidding to a halt in front of a playground, I felt my heart stutter at the sight of a group of children at a playground.

And there was a _building_ in beside them.

"Kids!" They snapped towards me, shocked and afraid. "Why are you—"

_**BOOM!** _

Thinking quickly, I watched as a whole _floor_ bursted into debris, tipping the skyscraper dangerously close to the civillians (one, two—why were there _six_ of them still here—!?), and I damn well _Shaved_.

And as a looming shadow towered over me, I braced my back for the impact and covered them with my outstretched arms.

* * *

Opal felt _alive._

_So, so gratefully_ _**alive** _ _._

"Leader-sama!" A brother spoke, lance at hand and the crow pendant glinting against the sunlight. "The wounded are currently being treated, but we've run out of materials due to the destruction of pharmacies. What shall we do?"

Opal glowered at nothing in particular. Damn scum, must they destroy the pharmacies as well in their tirade of false darkness? "There a herbs in our underground farm. Gather our siblings and pick them, then teach the medics how to mix it all."

Bowing, he left with a _by your word_ and Opal sighed.

Then at the corner of his eye, multiple structures fell, making him grit his teeth.

When will they see that carnage is never the answer? When all are empty husks of their former selves?

Or until someone will smash their face into the cold, hard truth?

* * *

Atlas or no, carrying a building was a _pain_.

"M-Mister..." one whimpered, and I shot him a small smile, but it might've come out as a grimace instead. I would talk, but seeing as my lungs were screaming at me right now, I'd rather not.

They were all safe, thank _god_ , but they were still trapped underneath this deathtrap unless I find a way to get them out _with_ adult supervision. If only my Den Den Mushi hadn't been smashed to pieces..!

Breathing shallowly through my mouth, I could feel the concrete digging through my clothes and mentally noted to apologize to Lucci, and bit back a cry. My right knee was digging through the playground's sand, softening the weight, but my other leg was unmistakeably shaking. I had activated my _Armament_ in time, but I can't stay put like this.

Think, Baccara. What can you do?

_Tell them to run?_ No, there are still explosives about. Shit.

_Ask them to call for help?_ Possible, but still risky. And they're unlikely to leave me, by the way they were looking at me, huddled as close as they can without disturbing my lowered stance.

_Go underground or punch a hole through the building?_ Who am I, Garp?

_Stratus?_...possible, but sharpnel would be a problem.

**Goddammit**.

"M-Mister..." I looked through ashen lashes to a small girl, clutching a stuffed bunny. Her cheeks were blotchy, but she didn't hiccup as she said, "You're gonna be alright."

I shuddered through numb nerves, and closed my eyes. Letting out a sound from the back of my throat, I focused on saving my energy and swallowed.

When I heard sniffles, I didn't stop for a moment and started whispering a lullaby that fell on my lips like an old friend coming home.

" _My dear, do you know what love is?"_ One sniffled, but all were looking at me with teary eyes. " _Do you know the feeling of peace and bliss?"_

Heaving, I pushed my way through. Can't stop now. " _My dear, do you know what love entails?_

_For I love you and every moment without you is pale."_

" _My dear, do you hear the birds singing in the sky?"_ Two girls leaned on each other's shoulders, and one managed a smile. Afraid but there. _There we go_. " _Do you hear their joy as they dance and fly by?"_

" _My dear, do you see the stars in both day and night?"_ The building rattled, but I distracted them with the next line, " _For I watch over you always even when out of sight."_

Seeing as they were still troubled, I went to the next stanza.

" _My child, do you know what I feel?"_ Granny Esmerelda's patient smile flashed in my eyes, and I could feel my eyes burn. _"Do you know the warmth you give beyond the world's chill?"_

" _My child, do you know that I love you so?"_ I choked, and shook my head when they tried to help me. _"For you're my whole life and you should know."_

" _My child, do you see the miracles you've made?"_

Ace, Sabo and Luffy… oh, how I've missed them (where are my sun, moon, and world—?"

" _Do you know the lightness in our steps with your every tale?"_

" _My child—"_ I whimpered, the building a constant presence on my back. _Fuck_ , I'm not going to lose now you fucking piece of _shit_ —

"— _do you feel the sun's present light?"_

— _my brothers' are waiting for me like hell I'm gonna—_

" _For you're brighter than anything in my humble sight."_

— _ **childoflifehearourcalllistentoourwhispersandremember**_ _—_

Letting their Voices wash over me, I let my head fall and didn't hear the children's distressed screams.

"Mister! Mister, please w-wake up!"

_("You see this, 'Cara?" A woman. Tall. Lean. Hands soft)_

"Mister _**please**_." A gut-wrenching sob, but I was dead to everything.

_(Wood. String. Arrow. A bow, curved and_ **whoseisitwhyisitsofamiliar?** _pulled back by_ **my?** _hand)_

More crying. But nobody came.

_(Small. Pale. Mine. My hand pulling back a bow._ **Whenwherewhichwho?** _she moved my shoulders and arms. Tilted, pulled back, firm)_

Cries tapering off. Grim determination as they guarded my prone body. Young, but so very brave.

_("Inhale, 'Cara." She chided. Laughter in her voice, summer in her hair. "Remember your_ haki _? Coat that with it.")_

"We'll be alright." They say amongst themselves. "Mister is s-strong."

"Why is he sleeping?"

"Shush."

_(Black tendrils shading the arrow. An approving sound of joy. The feel of grass_ **?** _tickling my bare feet. "Un! Very good! You're really a pro at this—")_

_("Now, you know the small space in your gut? No, not your tummy, dumdum." Amused. Jokes. Easy love given tenfold. "Yes,_ _**there** _ _. Gather all your feelings up. Negative or no. Go on.")_

Wind starts to pick up, unnoticed but there. My hair floated mildly at the change of pressure.

_("Imagine a kettle. Or a balloon." I did_ **I did?** _And painted an illustration of a kettle with my mind. "Store it all up, and when the time is right, use the arrow and your gut—")_

Wisps of black start rising, but none if the kids were scared. Flecks of gold dance about the abyss, swirling in front of their savior's still form.

One attempted to touch it, but his hand was smacked away.

_("—together, okay? The arrow's a declaration—")_

A thin line of will and intention formed, shining despite its dark body. The edge was pointed, a golden triangle as curves encircled it like a vortex of energy.

I exhaled.

_("—but the attack is—")_

And as it flew far away from their line of sight, a dome of translucent white imploded to my chest—before it exploded with a deafening stillness left behind.

Not one twitch, nor a breath taken. No bits of rocks fell, nor did a single grain of sand dared to inch away.

_("—more than that. Got it, little Conqueror?")_

And a pure wave of otherwordly quakes shook the entire island.


	11. The Answer (Bring Me Home)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a scream stuck in their throats, and the clock ticks on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was actually planning on making you guys wait for a week, but then my big sis found out and told me to, I quote, "get your dumb plotbunny-infested ass up and write the shit."So you can thank her for this one XD

Baccara is missing.

Well, it's more like Baccara isn't here _yet_ (because god knows the sheer mayhem that would happen if HQ hears about this), but Jabra had been helping out in the medical tents hastily set up for at least half an hour now, and it's not doing any favors to the tightness in his lungs.

Lucci then decided to grace him his presence, and for once Jabra doesn't have a sly remark on his tongue at the sight of his ridiculous brows furrowed and canine worrying his lower lip.

"Still not here?" He asked, dumping some used IV packs on a trash can. Rolling a thin tube gently, he set it inside a plastic tuppwerware (donated by some of the citizens, which was nice of them) full of warm water, and threw his fellow agent a damp towel. "Here, take your mind of him for a while. I'm sure he must've been held up or something. He's strong, yeah?"

If anything, his attempt of being comforting made it worse. Then he remembered the fact that the little Captain dove into the water so that they couldn't find him while he sorted out his problems, and winced.

Yeah... not really a good sign.

Just as he was about to distract the other with an awful pun, a shockwave of pure ( _ **kneelobeyhearthecriesofthoseyou'vepersecutedandleftbehind**_ _)_ washed over them, making his hair stand on its end and his pupils constrict into sharp pupils.

Hackles raised, and with the distinct feeling of _wrongrightwhowherewhy_ , Jabra turned to Lucci, whose neck had snapped into the general direction of the source, and the older man felt dread pool his stomach.

"Lucci..." amber eyes bore holes on his frame, and Jabra struggled not to snarl. What a time to be a Zoan. "Lucci, you don't know what's out there. Don't."

( _Missing pack_ , the Wolf growled. Agitated, it clawed on the back of his mind. _The pup is in_ _ **danger**_ _—_ )

 _He's not a pup anymore_ , he bit out. _He's an Alpha of his own right_.

( _Bullshit!_ It bared its teeth, blood-speckled with drool dripping down. _He is_ _ **ours**_ _to protect—!_ )

"He can handle himself!" He yelled, both at his animal and Lucci. Lucci—or was it the Leopard taking over him?—merely sneered, shoulders hunched and knees bent. Nails were extended, fingers clawed; Jabra was all for plummeting this brat to the ground just because he can't control his instincts, but he'd rather not dig his hands into his ( _packmate's—_ ) teammate's flesh.

But before he could even pounce on the feline, he'd already sprinted outside, the towel falling to the ground with a wet _splat_.

Chest rumbling, he stalked towards the Den Den Mushi he had with him, and dialed a number.

"Dory," he witheld the urge to utterly _destroy_ the snail in his grasp, the poor creature was already shaking. Inhaling deeply, he continued, "Look out for Lucci, he's not in a good place. It might take a few moments before he beats up the Leopard and wrestle for control." _If he wants to, that is_ , he doesn't say.

Dory's eyes were narrowed, but they were clear, and Jabra breathed out a sigh of relief because a rampaging leopard was nothing compared to a _fucking_ dinosaur. He nodded from the other side of the line, and answered, _"I'll see what I can do. Is Baccara not there yet?"_

"No." Shoving away the pinpricks of heat from his Inner, he ran a hand through mussed locks. Damn, he'll have to brush it all over again. Ugh. "It's what set Lucci off. Out of the four of us, he's the second youngest at eighteen, so his reaction is understandable. Doesn't make it less annoying though."

Dory huffed, but it sounded more resigned than anything. Leaving with a nod, he hung up and was left to wait in place.

( _You should be out there_ , it cursed. _What kind of Alpha are you?_ )

Eyes flashing a shade of garnet, he murmured, "The kind that trusts his pack, dimwit."

* * *

_Where is he?_

Wind whipped against his cheeks, almost cutting at the speed he was running ( _not fast enough, not yet, not yet—_ ), but his eyes were sharp and _he still can't see where he is_.

Lucci bit down his tongue, Hattori a speck of white above. It was times like this that he regretted not learning _Observation_ when he had the time, and resolved to bother someone ( _Baccara was good with it, wasn't he?_ ) when all of this was over.

( _Search for his scent_ , it purred, watching. Waiting. Judging. _You can do that, can't you?_ )

Not deigning it an answer, he perked up and took advantage of his heightened senses. Smoke and ash wafted through the air, making tears water in his eyes, but he pushed on despite the onslaught to his nose, and managed a whiff of ( _applesteawarmth_ _ **home—**_ ).

A grin stretched across his face, but the relief was short-lived when—

(— _tearssweat_ _ **blood**_ _fearsalt—_ )

—one of his own was _hurthur_ _ **thurthURT**_ —

Logically, he could brush it off as a wound received from a skirmish or rescuing stragglers, but all Lucci could remember was soft touches and gentle smiles and diving underwater because he was all _ragefuryhow_ _ **dare**_ _hehurtmynakama_ —

" _ **Hattori!"**_ Somebody shouted, was it him? No matter. His partner understood, and flew dangerously near the ground and fallen debris. His dark, beady eyes regarded him, before he took off ahead of him, and he pushed his legs further than he could.

(— _Water falling on curled hair, somber silvers with melancholy reflected on the water's surface, a strange brand of trust that made him feel whole—_ )

Choking down a scream, he _Shaved_.

* * *

He was underneath a building.

No, he was—he was _carrying a building_. Baccara was acting as a stopper between death and children and—

( _The cubs,_ the Leopard nudged. It was patient, still. Almost impressed. _Save them, and you'll save him_ )

Feeling for his Den Den Mushi, and consequently swearing when he couldn't, he snatched the strangely calm kids away from ground-zero, and crawled towards—( _kinbelovedcaptain_ _ **nakama**_ )

"Baccara," he rasped, and wondered when his voice became so hoarse when he hadn't even made a sound. Baccara's head was bowed, white and grey dusting his mop of curls. Streams of red ran from his hairline to his chin, joining sweat and tears and—Lucci drew blood in his tongue. _"_ Baccara _, please_."

"Mister! Mister, over here!"

"Mister, can you get them out of there?"

"Hey, Mister, you're strong, right?"

Lucci's attention moved to the children, and saw the silhouette of Baccara's Marine friend with no small amount of reassurance. Help was here. He could get Baccara out.

( _He can save him_ )

"Dory!" From what he could see of his legs, he startled at the call. Watching him duck, turquiose-blue eyes widened at what he saw before briefly turning into citrine. " _What the fuck."_ His irises glowed in an ethereal light, and he looked absolutely _monstrous_.

" _Why the fuck is he_ _ **under a fucking building?**_ "

"We can ask him later after we get his sorry ass out of it."

Eye twitching, Dory pulled back and, after quietly asking the onlookers to move away, shifted into the unmistakeable stature of an Allosaurus. Head pushing Baccara's burden away—amongst other awed exclamations of the children, unnaturally cheerful despite the near-death experience—Lucci hugged his limp body close and _Shaved_ towards Dory's side.

His clothes were ripped and laden with bits of his ordeal, stupidly brave endeavor as it was, with the bag still somehow intact, and his arms had finally lost its black sheen Lucci didn't notice until it disappeared.

Looking both unbearably fond and frustrated all at once, Dory brushed away his fringe and muttered, "I am never going to another mission with you. Ever."

It sounded like, _I'll follow you to hell and back._

Shifting his hold, he said, "I'll bring him back," and _Moonwalked_ away with his arm full of the physical embodiment of headaches and love.

With Dory's muffled blue streak a peaceful backdrop—not wanting to corrupt the kids, no doubt, which was futile since they'd already heard worse—Lucci leaped as Hattori swerved at his side, and a smile found its place on his usually placid expression.

He'll need to stay at the hospital for a few days, but he's here and that's all that mattered.

 _I'll follow you beyond death, too_.

* * *

After receiving a mouthful from his senior (he honestly thought they'd be coming to blows, but Dory's simple presence removed that avenue entirely), Lucci stretched from where he lay on Baccara's makeshift bed

They'd been secluded from the entirety of Koen's population with the help of the robed individuals (something Baccara will have to deal with himself), which they were all glad for, becasuse if they didn't the bombs would be the least of their problems.

Dory had secured himself a spot beside Baccara's medicated self, spooning him and generally being as close as he could without disturbing his leg cast and machinery, mostly seen with a book or just plain staring at him. Jabra had designated Seat Watch duty, seeing as he was the oldest (and most control of his Inner). He'd play with Baccara's hair or ramble about what was happening, his only outward sign of anxiousness shown during late night smokes.

Lucci himself had taken residence on his stomach, resting his head on it with his legs propped up at the edge, arms clingy. Sometimes he'd let Hattori preen him as he counted each rise and fall of Baccara's chest, and sometimes he'd want to just _be_.

The report to the Fleet Admiral was blessedly quick, with Sengoku having already been too used to D.'s and their destruction, but calling Baccara's family was another thing entirely.

Usually, the commanding officer would make a short explanation about the lack of contact of the Marine in question, but since said commanding officer was down, it was up to them to tell the good and bad news. Joy.

"So..." Jabra started, looking at the string of numbers as if it was going to jump out and bite him. Speaking of bite, Dory's fingernails won't grow anymore if he continues abusing them. "Who's gonna talk to them?"

"Not me," said Lucci. He was currently buried on the junction of Baccara's neck and shoulder, eyes closed and seemingly asleep. Hattori was perched on their shared living pillow's head, cleaning himself.

"But you're the one who found him," Dory pointed out, removing his fingers to shoot him a disgruntled look. Lucci smirked. _Not his fault that he was too slow_. "Plus, you're probably the most level-headed out of all of us right now."

"No," Lucci refused, and Dory looked ready to rip him away from Baccara then and there. Sensing his thoughts, Lucci nosed Baccara's collarbone and peeked an eye open. Feeling childish, he stuck his tongue out.

Jabra kicked the Ancient Zoan, since kicking Lucci meant kicking Baccara by proxy. _Hah_.

"Stop it you two." Then he buried his face in his hands in horrified realization. "Oh my god, why am _I_ the responsible one? This is all _your_ fault." The last part was directed at Lucci's bed companion, who was still sleeping for three days and counting. Wilting, Jabra took the Den Den Mushi and groused, "Fine! I'll call his damn family. You two _so_ owe me on this."

Moving so he could get a better view, Lucci snuggled deeper in place and watched as Jabra dialed the number as quick as he could without mistakes.

The snail's _purupurupurupuru_ echoed in the tent. Dory was biting his fingernails again.

When a deafening _cacha_ sounded, making Dory jolt and Jabra nearly drop the receiver, a woman's voice asked as a rowdy background made itself known, _"Hello? This is Patrys Bar, how may I help you?"_

"Uh..." Dory made slashing motions with his hands. Lucci rolled his eyes to the heavens as Hattori took several pictures of this disaster. "Are you... Ms. Makino? Noir D. Baccara's chosen guardian?"

" _Yes,"_ she answered. Then, eyes taking in a worried look, added, _"Is he alright? He hasn't called since he left."_

"Yeah, about that..." he glanced at the bed, and groaned whilst palming his face, "...he got into an accident—" Lucci scoffed. "—and has been unconscious for a while now. So we—"

" _Maki-nee! Who are ya callin'?"_ A kid's voice suddenly broke through, making them all grimace at the volume. _"Hm? You're making a funny face, Maki-nee. Did you eat something bad?"_

" _She's not like you, Lu,"_ was the fond jeer. _"Wait a minute—is this about 'Cara?"_

"' _CARA!?"_ The first boy, and a third one that made the experience all the more noisier, shrieked. _"Where is he!? Why did he—hey!" "Is 'Cara okay? Windy was really worried!"_

"...yes?" Dory made an aborted movement like he was about to throw _Draconius_ but failed to recall that he left it outside. "I mean, he's got his leg in a cast since he held up a building—"

" _HE GOT A WHAT BECAUSE HE WHAT A_ _ **WHAT**_ _NOW!?"_

" _Hey, Anchor! What's gotten Freckles all riled up?"_

" _Sha—"_

" _WHERE IS HE RIGHT NOW!?"_ The third boy demanded, face contorted into a scowl that didn't fit a brat's, much less a snail's. " _WHO ARE YOU!? HOW DO WE KNOW YOU'RE WITH THE MARINES!?"_

Jabra shot them a panicked look and mouthed, _that's a good question, what now!?_

"Do you guys know a Dory?" Piped up the man in question. Then, to be sure, "How about uh... a clumsy clown! Or a kid with a Devil Fruit?"

" _Clumsy clown?" "What's a Dory!? Can you—" "A kid with a_ what _now."_

" _Oh!"_ The woman's—a certain Maki-nee, if they were led to be believed— _"You mean the North Blue friends of his? Is this Dory I'm speaking with?"_

"Yes, and the one who called you is another friend of mine," Dory agreed, slumping. Jabra and Lucci sighed in tandem. Thank god for Garp, for once. "I'm with the Marines after Vice-Admirals Tsuru and Garp took me in. I can vouch for the caller, and Baccara's condition."

" _But what's this about a building?"_ she inquired. While not shown by the snail, the three boys seemed to be listening intently. _"Why didn't he just chop it up?"_

" _Yeah! 'Cara can beat up Tiger Lord since he was six!"_

" _But that was Tiger Lord's dad, Lu."_

" _Huh, really? Tiger Lord-Lord then?"_

" _No, you idiot. He meant—"_

"There were civillians underneath the building, and the speed it was falling at was too quick," Jabra decided to cut in. _I thought Baccara had_ one _brother, not three._ Making a face at that revelation, he continued,"It took us at least an hour to find him, but other than some minor scrapes, he's fine."

" _That's good then,"_ the woman mused. _"When will he wake up?"_

"At least two days or so," he replied. And after saying goodbye, receiving death threats and vows of dismemberment if he didn't call back, Jabra finished the world's most stressful Den Den Mushi call and collapsed on Baccara's other side.

"Wake me up when it's all over."

Receiving a sympathic pat on the back from Dory, Lucci chuckled and hunkered down to sleep.

_Looks like his family is as chaotic as he is._

Through it all, Baccara didn't move an inch.

* * *

The world came back to me in little ways.

It starts with the softness of the mattress I was lying on, the well-known feel of antiseptics, and a mass of heat on my side.

Slowly, I counted my teeth with my tongue, subtly moved my fingers and toes, and coming to the conclusion that I was somewhere safe (albeit missing a leg. Or was that a cast?), I opened my eyes.

The scent of lavender and sandalwood then found its way to my senses, and I inhaled as I finally realized who was my limpet.

Gently carding my fingers through Lucci's messy mane, I smiled at the image of serenity he made, long lashes kissing pale cheeks and his body attempting to merge with mine.

"Lucci." Sleepy mumbles were given, and I giggled as his breath tickled my neck. "Lucci, wake up."

He made a noise like a mix of a whine and a sigh, arms gripping me tightly as I poked his ear. It twitched, and I cooed. "Lucci, sweetheart, wake up. I need to know how long I've been asleep." _And if the kids are alright_. Proceeding to play with his ears, I waited for him to react.

His chin planted itself on my chest, making him half sprawled all over me, and he gave a slow, considering blink. Remembering what that action meant from cats, I grinned.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," I whispered. "How are you?"

I saw the moment his brain registered what he saw, before his pupils expanded and he yelped, "You're awake!" His lips were more than a little quirked upwards, and I could do nothing but helplessly laugh as he ran careful hands on my face. _"You're awake_."

"I am," I agreed, and held one of his hands to lean on it. He stopped, staring at me with an expression of pure wonder that it broke and made my heart at the same time. "Call the others for me?"

He looked torn, eyes darting from me to the tent's open flaps, before Hattori took it upon himself to search for our wayward teammates.

All but melting on me, Lucci pressed his ear on my chest, a display of affection I've only seen from Ace, and he idly traced the fresh white shirt I had for no reason other than he could. It looked like Dory's.

"You and a building," he began, and I could feel the judgement in his tone. I laughed once more, careful not to dislodge the man hanging onto me for dear life, because if there was something I learned from my days at Dawn Island, it was that laughter was _explosive_ as it was private. Looking back at it now, that _was_ stupid. Garp's levels of stupid, actually. "A battle that history would forever remember as the infamous Unstopabble Force vs Immovable Wall."

I am _definitely_ never going to hear the end of this. From multiple sources.

"You didn't answer my question, Lucci." He breathed, and tilted his head upwards. I could see the way his cheekbones were highlighted with the shadows from the days lost, tired and begrudging. I soothed his temples with my fingers, massaging it in a way Dr. Sterling had showed me when I was nine.

"Five days," he hummed, eyes closing at the treatment. He must still be in the clutches of Hypnos, then. "The kids are alright, all of Koen's asking if you're okay, and the cult that followed you is a second away from christening your tent as a shrine."

"Not a cult," I reply, but it was weak. He made a noise at the back of his throat when I moved to his scalp, and I witheld the urge to squeal when I figured out it was a _purr_. _Mio Dios,_ I have a _gatito_ as a cuddle partner!

Holy shit, I also have a literal _peritto_ and _dinosaurio_.

 _Holy shit_.

"Lucci..." He purred. He was still _purring_. "Lucci, can you—"

A harried Dory bursted in, making Lucci hiss as his back arched with his elbows and knees caging me. I let out an _oof_ at the sudden displacement of weight, and Jabra tumbled in with a cartwheel of all things.

"Baccara?" Dory found me, and smiled. "Baccara!" Then he noticed our positions, and turned beet red. _"Baccara!?"_

"Hullo," I waved, as Jabra guffawed. Dory was spluttering, before speed-walking to my side and cupped my face. His crossed chin had wisps of a beard, and his hair was let down and a mess.

"Bastard. I'm demanding a raise." But he didn't remove his hold, and fixed Lucci's button-up from where it rode up to his waist.

Jabra sauntered over, falling on a chair as he placed a leg on my cast-free calf.

"Good to have you back, Captain twerp."

I laced my fingers with Dory's and let their presence lull me back to sleep.

"It's good to be back."

Other matters could afford wait.

* * *

"You talked to Maki?"

I took a moment to admire the way Jabra could do a single-fingered push-up with me and Dory (since I had commandeered his lap, itchy cast being a pain) lounging on his back, before grabbing the North Blue native's jaw. " _Doooooryyyy_ , pay attention to your poor Captain!"

"I don't see no Captain here, especially not _poor_ ," he grouched, eyes not leaving the latest installment of _Sora, Warrior of the Sea_.

"Wow, you guys really love that, huh?" I mention, making him look at me in silent askance. "Remember Roci's kid? He loved that too. I'm actually surprised you two didn't meet other than a few chance meetings at the ship."

"Of course he loves it. Everybody in North Blue knows this." He said it with utmost certainty I had to smile. The sky was blue, Log Poses were a must, and _Sora, Warrior of the Sea_ was a must-needed comic to the North Blue locals. "Want to read?"

"Tell me a summary first," I suggest, leaning on his broad chest as Jabra counted, _one-hundred and ninety-seven..._

He told me about how Sora, the main character, was practically the ideal image of a Marine, and his exploits were based on real-life bictories, with the villains— _ **Germa 66**_ , was Dory's bitter comment, face scrunched up adorably—the typical 'evil' warmongers. There were a few more facts thrown in, about a pet seagull and the number and transforming robot, before Dory promised to bring some of the earlier newspapers to my room for me to start with.

"Who's that? I can't quite see him well."

"Oh, Stealth Black? I'm surprised you even noticed him. It took me rereading volume four at least six times to discover where he was."

"Ah. Invisibilty, regarding his name, yes? How cute."

"They're not cute, Baccara. They're the darkness that corrupts the sea!"

"Yes, yes. Go on, next panel, Dory."

"What is he going on about this time?" Lucci's voice wandered, and I waggled my fingers at him before Dory's sharp intake of breath took me back.

 _Oh_. "That wound looks bad."

"Will he survive it?"

"With immediate medical attention, maybe. But he—what the _fuck_."

"Yeah," Dory said, as I boggled at the two-page drawing of the robot demolishing the villain's base of operations ("They have a _lot_ of those," Dory had bemoaned), effectively risking Sora's life. Where was the seagull? "He does that a lot."

"...why?" Just, _why_?

Shrugging, Dory resumed his reading. Hattori had then made his entrance, perching on Dory's hari before nesting there. "Get off."

Hattori crooned a _No_.

"Lucci, get him off."

"No," Lucci remarked, sitting in front of Jabra and eating a bag of chips. Loudly. "Hattori is his own free bird."

"Fuck the democracy and get him _off_."

"Fuck it yourself and _no_."

" _Shhhh_!" I shushed them. "It's getting to the good part!"

"What, where?" Dory made an 'oh' face. "Yeah, when those sound effects show up, shit's going down."

"Do you think Sora's going to die?"

" _What_!?" Dory hollered, scaring Hattori away after he pecked his eyebrow. He didn't seem to notice this, and butted his forehead against mine. "Why would you think of that!?"

"Because it's a comic? Where people can return back to life?" He blinked. "He's never been revived before?"

" _Noooo_." He voiced out brokenly, either at my theory or question. Eyeing the newspaper in his hands distrustfully, he harrumphed, "If they make him die, they better make it reasonable."

It was not reasonable.

"Why the hell did _Bitch_ Green get to kill him!?" I can't help but agree to this. "At least let Poison Pink do it! At least _she's_ competent!" I agree with him wholeheartedly.

"Oh, bother." Lucci shared a commiserating look with his avian partner. "We have _two_ geeks now. Wonderful."

Throwing the newspaper at Lucci's face, I shrieked in happiness when Lucci jumped on Dory, missing me by a hair's breadth, and making Jabra lose balance with a curse.

Hooting at us, Hattori snapped a photo before helping his human defeat Dory, who was pulling at Lucci's hair while Lucci had sunk his teeth on his arm.

"You're all hazards of your own rights."

Giggling at Jabra's acute observation, I winked. "At least we're not boring!"

Pinching my cheeks, he grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the Strawhats have a post-battle feast, then these ragtag group of Government agents and officers can get a post-battle cuddlepile.
> 
> Yes, Baccara is a Conqueror (the amount of keyboard smashing I received last chapter was beatiful)
> 
> No, seriously. You guys have headcanons about my OC? Can you tell them in the comments? Please?
> 
> Did you like my Valentines Day gift? Took me a long time, but it was more the worth it.
> 
> I'm currently in Christian Living class right now, but since I know the Bible like the back of my hand, I'm doing this instead. This being my pride and joy, and apparently a source of serotonin to most of you as well.
> 
> Don't trust me on updating regularly tho. I still haven't finished my projects ^^;


	13. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loyalty is questioned, problems are somewhat adressed, and more questions are unsolved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter was... hard. Believe it or not, Baccara didn't want to be written. Which is a first, 'cause he's usually pliant. But, I digress.
> 
> Question time!
> 
> NERD ALERT! (lmao, I love them) also, Bitch Green is Winch Green, right?
> 
> Eeeeyup! Also, Baccara's been converted to the Dark Side. Guess he'll have something to talk about with Law, yeah?
> 
> Wait, if Baccara has the East Blue crew of his own now... next is uh Vivi, right? And the duck? Does he have them too? Or was it Chopper?
> 
> Yeah, Vivi and Carue first before Chopper. And he met them (his Vivi and Carue) before anyone else. Why don't you guys guess who ;)
> 
> CONQUEROR BACCARA!
> 
> *finger guns*
> 
> Is he related to Roger? 'Cuz, *waves vaguely at the Gold theme he has*
> 
> Nooooooo. That, I can tell you with zero spoilers. He's not related to the first Pirate King, only the second one. Funnily enough, a commentor mentioned how the Gold theme fits/is awesome because it means treasure.
> 
> I NEED. MORE. GOVERNMENT. CUDDLES.
> 
> AKAJSNSJNSJS me too! Also, do you guys have an idea what to call them? They've been "Pentaford" (Penta = five, ford = Marineford) in my mind rn. If you have any ideas, feel free to comment!
> 
> I still don't see why Dory and Cara aren't together.
> 
> I'll show you. In the future chapters. Heh.
> 
> Why aren't people drawing more fanart for your story!? Why!?
> 
> ...'cause they're busy? Idk, but I wouldn't mind if they don't or did (ngl I would die if I get fanart)
> 
> And that's it! More at the bottom!

Lucci had been taught a lot of things. To lie, to hide, to kill, and so much more.

But the one of the very first things they taught him—the most important lesson they taught to all of those who would become CP-9, was that feelings were not allowed during missions.

Or, better yet, at everything they did.

They listed dozens of reasons why it was so. That attachments could distract you, having personal opinions would make you biased, your time would be divided as will be your attention to the matter at hand, etc., etc.

Looking down at the slumbering form of one Noir D. Baccara, Lucci couldn't help but agree.

It was pure luck that he didn't completely lose control when he did, the Leopard more amused than feral and cruel to his predicament. He had no excuse, save for the amount of stress that had built up, and his own weakness regarding the Marine Captain's wellbeing. Even then, he felt that it was weak. Excuses were still excuses, and his shortcomings had been glaringly obvious to everyone that could see.

Jabra's words rang in his mind, _There's a reason Carnivorous Zoans don't always last long in the field. Control yourself, before they put you down._

Hands tightening into fists, Lucci stayed silent.

He had become emotionally invested in Baccara's wellfare, had become soft and _wanting_ in his company. Selfish needs were not allowed in his line of work, his viciousness and craving for blood nothwithstanding. They could use that bloodthirstiness of his, could direct him like the weapon that he was to destroy what they deemed unwanted, and he would have no objections so long as he had his fill.

His affections to Baccara, however, they cannot. Could not. Would not. Why should they, when he was nothing more than a mere Marine? Another cog in their intricate machine of law and order? Another pawn for the greater good?

(And even if they did, the very thought of using this young teen, of _taking advantage_ of him made his skin crawl unpleasantly, like slime clinging on his entire body, dragging him down)

Lucci had been curious, at first, when he first met him. He'd heard about the exceptional student Garp the Fist had trained, had heard about his skill and prowess, about the fact that he had knocked out an Admiral through quick thinking and even quicker actions, and had tamed the other two with nary a sweat broken. Despite his slight stature and easy smile, Lucci had seen Kalifa kill a man with only a box of tissues and sweet little Kaku become quite adept at dual swords, so as he watched him make talk with the Fleet Admiral in an ease that bellied their closeness, he took note of the way he moved and held himself.

His form was sure but loose, giving room for abrupt movement. Limbs all whipcord strength hiding a force worthy of being under Vice-Admiral Garp's tutelage, and eyes sharp and knowing. He smiled like all was right in the world, but Lucci couldn't get a grasp of how he thought. How he ticked. What made him feel.

It wasn't until they were discussing about their impendning sleeping arrangements when Lucci realized he was... different.

Baccara was happy, in a way that could almost be written off as naïve or childish, but he had been mindful of the way Lucci had flinched when they hunkering down on the hammock, had taken note of the way Hattori was more than what he seemed, and had taken his and Jabra's rivalry in stride.

He was happy, but he felt other emotions as well. He was all righteous anger and fury upon learning about Donquixote Doflamingo's doings, diving into the one place they couldn't (wouldn't) follow him to before rising up and sulking in Dory's arms. He was all guilt and bone-deep sorrow when he remembered his brothers, curling into himself like he had done the unthinkable and wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

He was urgency and controlled panic during the attack in Koen, barking out orders as if it was merely breathing, head still on his shoulders as he dove into a nest of vipers and came out with an entire contingent ready to lay out their lives for him, all the while being perfectly oblivious to the hero-worship their eyes held as they looked at him, as if he had hung the sun, the moon, and the stars in the vast skies.

He was stupid bravery and stubborness underneath a towering building, back and arms and legs being the only thing that held death back to the strangers who were too idiotic to know the meaning of what an evacuation _was_. Steady still, despite the fact that he had passed out, and unfazed by the unidentified shockwave that had exploded across the island.

He was warmth and sincerity as they bustled about during the trip on sea, all teasing remarks and casual gestures of love, uncaring and careful all at once, coddling and being coddled, wise and ignorant of the world in a manner that made Lucci more fond than annoyed. That made Jabra softer than his rough edges would've allowed. That made Hattori coo and preen as much as he cackled and pranked.

Dory had given them a raised brow once, as he was making breakfast in the ridiculous apron of his, but seemed more resigned than anything, deep as he was in the pit of Baccara's company and grounding hugs.

Amassing all of these information about him, Lucci had figured out why he was different.

He was honest. Honest in ways that had drawn him—Lucci in, that had drawn others towards him, like a moth to a tantalizing flame. Like a string of faith that was too thin to pull you up from the abyss, but still begged you to try.

(But he was not pure, no. Lucci had seen the frost in his eyes, had seen his lack of surprise at the darkness of reality, and had known. Baccara had been tainted, like splattered ink on a clean sheet of paper. Not like Lucci's pitch black hands. Not like Jabra's clinging shadows that nipped at his every step.

Sometimes, he wondered who let him be dirtied. Or if he had willingly plunged into the void like they had as well)

But that was not enough of a reason to let go of his teachings, to abandon the rules that had shaped his life, no matter how close or utterly _warm_ being with him was—

A whimper forces him back to the present, and he sees the cold sweat that had accumulated during his inward fight with himself, and fights down the rising worry in his gut.

He needs to cut it. Needs to sever the ties before it's too late, before he hesitates and—

(But wasn't he hesitating right now?)

A choked sob, and Lucci snarls quietly at the source of his conflict. _Why must you be so kind?_ He thinks, watching the other squirm in his sleep at the phantoms (that he wants to kill because how _**dare**_ they scare him so—). _Why must you be so reckless? So selfless and valiant and everything I hated and thought I didn't want—didn't_ need _?_

_Why must you unbalance this serenity and come crashing in like a wrecking ball even though you didn't mean to? Why must you care so much for those that don't deserve your time?_

_Why must you feel so strongly?_

_Why must_ I _feel so strongly about_ _ **you**_ _?_

Groaning at his train of thought, he pressed the heels of his palms on his eyes, squeezing them shut as if a simple action could banish away his concerns. Failing at that, he turns away and leaves the medical tent. Jabra or Dory would come back soon from their respective patrols or meetings. He didn't need to stay by his side any longer.

But his feet betray him and, like gravity, he comes back without fail. Back at his bedside, where he's crying at things that weren't real, quiet but deafeningly loud to his ears.

Hattori croons at him, asks him what he's waiting for, and he can't—

He doesn't know.

(What _was_ he waiting for? A sign? An arguement? Baccara waking up and making everything all fine?)

' _I'll follow you beyond death, too',_ he had thought, carrying his prone form with his shoulders no longer burdened by fright, a companion he had considered as more than an ally yelling at him as he gave chase, and Lucci—

Lucci had felt like he could finally _breathe_.

(He's been bathed in blood for as long as he could remember, missions blurring together with only Hattori and the length of his hair serving as his reminder of the passage of time.

He didn't notice that he'd been drowning in it.

No, he didn't _care_ if he was drowning in it, because—)

Finally, he places a hand on Baccara's forehead and smoothens his hair, sticky with sweat and stuck to his pale face. Almost immediately, his expression softens, becoming calmer once more, and he returns to a restful sleep. As if a simple touch could scare away the ghosts lurking in the corners, as if _Lucci_ could keep the demons at bay.

And maybe he could. He was a monster in his own right, after all.

"You're a headache," he murmurs, but it lacked any heat. Hattori chirps, careful to keep the volume down, as if to say, _Now that wasn't so hard now, wasn't it?_ Lucci ignores him, focuses solely to this enigma of a teen, and whispers, "You've gotten your grubby paws on me, haven't you." It wasn't a question, and Lucci finds himself not shocked, but... content. Like it was a done deal. Like he had _wanted_ this. This—to be bound to this boy he had only met at least a week ago, with only words and hugs and eyes like pools of light. To stay and never let go and—and he _wants_. Longs for a place he could rest after he's done hunting, somewhere he could sleep without having to keep an eye open for traitors or opportunity-seekers, wants a _home_ he had only heard of and seen for a few glimpses.

Through it all, Baccara sleeps. And Lucci can only watch as he finds less and less reasons to not give in, to not bury himself into his inviting heat and make his place be at his side.

Hattori simply nestles on his human's shoulder, and that was that.

* * *

The sight of Lucci practically trying to merge himself with Baccara was a normal sight. Enough that Dory doesn't splutter or gape no matter how compromising their positions were. Much.

So when he sees the second youngest member of their ragtag group of Goverment officers and agents just _sit_ there at Baccara's bedside, Dory stops, mug of coffee at hand and slightly wary.

"Lucci?" No response. Okay... "Hey, you alright?"

Slowly, as if he was caught in syrup, Lucci turned his head and looked over his shoulder.

His eyes were bloodshot. No tears, no puffiness, but still bloodshot.

 _Where was Jabra when you needed him?_ Dory mentally panicked, white noise in the backdrop sounding eerily like someone's screaming. Him screaming, actually. _Better yet, why won't Baccara wake up again? He's alright now, wasn't he!?_

Dumbfounded, Dory very quickly chose _not_ to comment about his less-than-composed demeanor, and instead held up the offering in his hands. "Coffee?"

Thankfully, Lucci seemed to be functional (or merciful) enough to accept his last minute gift, and drank the mug in one gulp like it was a shot.

Yeah, he is definitely _not_ alright.

After downing that scalding hot coffee without even batting an eyelash, Lucci returned to... whatever he was doing. Staring at Baccara like he was the most interesting specimen in the world, maybe.

...should he leave? He should, right?

 _Dammit_ , he was **not** trained for this!

Pulling up another chair, he took a seat beside the CP-9 agent, empty mug at hand and brain working fast.

Should he speak up? Distract him from whatever seemed to be bothering him? What would he even _talk_ about, the newest volume of _Sora, Warrior of the Sea_?

 _For fuck's sake_ , he thought, venomously leering at the tent's entrance. _Just appear already, you damn mutt!_

Of course, Jabra didn't show up just because of his willing him to, and Dory was still stuck with two teenagers who were not in the greatest of places, mentally-wise.

Was it his Inner? Was the Leopard making noise again?

However hard Dory tried to think of something to do other than fidgeting, he didn't open his mouth lest he made things worse. So they stayed there, in silence and sitting side by side, with no one but an asleep Baccara to lay witness to this tragedy of awkwardness and lack of communication.

They were three hours in, with the sounds of people milling about signifying that it was near afternoon, when Jabra (finally, _finally_ ) came in.

Dory was _this_ close to praising the ground he walked on. Almost.

"Hey, there!" He greeted, seemingly oblivious to the tense(?) atmosphere that blanketed the tent. But Dory had seen him move nearly a week before, fluid and _dancing_ around their enemies, making them look even more idiotic with their flailing limbs and pathetic attempts of attacking. Jabra was _more_ than that. He wouldn't be an agent of a 'mythical' organization, otherwise. "Look what I found!"

In his outstretched hand was a cowboy hat bearing the most _eye-searing_ shade of orange known to mankind. There were other accessories on it, like the string of red beads and blue emoticons in between it, but Dory was a bit too busy _boggling_ at the existence of something so... so...

Dory had no words.

Probably noticing what his face was doing, Jabra laughed, loud and coming from his gut. "I _know_ , right? I wore the same expression when one of those robed-weirdos gave it to me. They said Baccara was wearing it? I'm not really sure. Hey, Lucci!" The aforementioned teen glanced at his direction, and Dory was relieved at the quick reaction, though he was a bit peeved. "Remember the twerp wearing anything like this? Doesn't seem like his taste, but—"

"Yes," was the succinct statement, hand out in an unmistaken 'gimme' gesture. "He bought it for his brother."

"Huh, really?" Jabra mused, handing it over without much fanfare. "Well, they had to fix the cord and find the skull amulet on it, but it's as good as new!" Then he tilted his head, looking at the temporary owner of the hat with no small amount of worry and confusion. "How come he's not awake yet? He should be fine by now, right?"

" _Yes_ ," Dory couldn't help but intone with much more gratitude than intended. He had wanted to converse about Baccara's condition when he first came in, but didn't in fear of setting Lucci off. "He's sturdier than that, so seeing him still in bed is..."

"Jarring," came Lucci's helpful remark, brows furrowed in a way Dory could only notice because of their close proximity and the amount of time they spent together. He looked better than before, less closed-off and more willing to talk. Which was good.

(Was the problem with Dory? Should he have left after giving him the coffee?)

Shoving that thought away, he returned his attention to their still downed teammate. Baccara was more important right now. He could deal with his crippling self-esteem later.

"The doctors didn't say anything going wrong, right?" He asked, despite already knowing the answer. He himself had countlessly asked them question upon question about it, had memorized every version of 'he's stable, you just have to wait', but it still did nothing to settle his nerves.

Shaking his head, Jabra said, "Nothing we haven't already heard. It might be his body catching up on more sleep. Or his brain. Could be both. Either way, we have no idea of when he's going to wake up again, so we should just—"

A sharp intake of breath, and a low keen.

Before they could do anything other than startling badly at the sudden noise (though, Lucci looked like he _expected_ it), Baccara's body snapped upward, making him sit up instantaneously like a slingshot that had been launched, eyes wide and unseeing. His face was sweaty, hair a mess, and the cut on his lips looked more pronounced with how it seemed to lack any blood.

"I—" he started, looking at something that wasn't there. "Where—who—?"

"Baccara," Lucci called, even. He didn't touch him, didn't do anything that would make him more rattled than before. But he did force him to meet his gaze, silver clashing with ebony, and spoke clearly despite the fine tremors racking up Baccara's slouched frame.

"You're safe," he reminded, gently. Baccara was silent, but his eyes were still tracking movement. Good. "You're inside a medical tent in Koen, and have just woken up after sleeping for three days." He placed a hand over his, and squeezed it reassuringly. Baccara didn't pull away. "The bombers have been apprehended, and the bombs have all been found."

"The children are safe, Baccara. You saved them."

Gradually, the tension left his shoulders. He slumped, and Dory actually thought he'd curl up in Lucci's arms then and there, but instead he croaked out in a broken, little voice that punched the air out of his lungs,

"I know that..." and he inhaled, breath shuddering. Dory fought down the urge to scoop him up and wrap him with blankets before hiding him away from the world. Which was stupid, because Baccara was _stronger_ than him, but— "...I know that... but I..."

He looked lost, off-kilter.

No, that wasn't right.

He looked every bit his age; sixteen and so, so _young_.

Dory struggled not to do—anything. Because now was not the time to be angry at—at—

"But?" Jabra pried, not unkindly. He watched as Baccara took in another breath, watched as he gathered his scrambled thoughts, and waited.

Dory never thought that Jabra could be patient. He seemed... bigger than life sometimes. All raring to, go and not even stopping for time itself to catch up with him. Fast, strong, a _beast_ of sharp grins and sharper claws.

Now, he looked like a friend waiting for another. Quiet, unmoving.

It fitted him, funnily enough. But maybe it was because he was the oldest, the one who smacked their heads together when they hovered around Baccara too much, the one who kicked them out to take a bath and put some meat in their bones.

Jabra, the responsible one. It was laughable, but true.

It was also so very, very _strange_.

"... there was a woman," Baccara admitted, soft and pitch just above a murmur. "She... I _know_ her from... from..."

He fisted his sheets, shoulders hunched and tears welling up in his eyes. Frustration, sorrow, and _something_ that Dory couldn't (could never dream of) decipher, quick as it was with its leave, made silver shine brighter. Fat droplets of tears fell, and Baccara _cried_.

"I can't... I can't _remember_."

Oh. _Oh_.

Oh, _Baccara_.

"Hey," he cajoled, wiping away the rivulets on his flushed cheeks. Baccara sniffled, like a child who just had his dreams crushed, and Dory _ached_. "Hey, no need to beat yourself up like that, yeah? Don't be so hard to yourself."

"But," he hiccuped, and any other time, Dory would've thought it was adorable, but this wasn't any other time. "But I—"

"—just woke up after falling in a semi-medical coma, and _before_ that, you held up a building for an hour and a half. On your _own_." Dory held up a finger when he opened his mouth to cut in. "Ah, ah! No, you had _your_ time, now listen to _me_."

Frowning, he acquiesced. He sniffed, and Lucci wordlessly handed him some tissues. Hattori's reappearance, unnoticed but now explained.

Jabra was still watching, but made no move to speak up.

"Baccara, none of this was your fault." He had to remind him of that, before it became a permanent fixture in his head. "Neither your memories, nor your condition." _Both mentally and physically_ , was unsaid. But all heard it. Dory could only hope Baccara could _accept_ it. "Well, you did deserve that cast on your leg, for scaring at least two decades off my life—" his lips twitched upwards, and Dory smothered the grin that threatened to appear on his face. "—but I shouldn't be surprised, knowing you D's track record."

"Track record?" He asked, and his voice was fuller now. Steadier, too. Dory was taking this as a win.

Dory huffed in mock-disgruntlement. "There's the Pirate King, whose name was actually Gol _D._ Roger. Seas know why his bounty is spelled _Gold Roger_." A giggle escaped Baccara, secretive and no longer than a minute or two. "Then there's your mentor, Monkey D. Garp. I'm sure everyone in _Marineford_ knows what chaos that man makes." Another tiny giggle, shoulders shaking in mirth.

"Pretty sure Silvers Rayleigh is considered as an honorary D," was Jabra's two Berries, and Dory sent him a thankful look. He was running out of impossible people to name. "And Whitebeard, too. I think he has a D for a son? Could be wrong, but." He shrugged.

Lucci piped up, "There's a rumor that the Revolutionary Leader is a D as well. He fits the bill: dangerous, most likely demented, and a pain in the ass."

Baccara snorted, then _laughed_ , and Dory blinked.

He'd heard Baccara laugh before, how could he not? But this...

" _Sesesesesesesese!_ "

Dory had never heard of _this_.

"Huh." Jabra crossed his arms, leaning backwards and raising an amused eyebrow. "Never thought that he had his _own_ laugh. Is it a D thing?" Then he halted, backtracking, before shaking his head. "No, other people had their own laughs, and _they're_ not a D. Nope. Just another special feature in this crazy world, I guess."

"What gave it away?" Dory dryly inquired, remembering some of the _colorful_ characters he'd met during his first few months under Vice-Admiral Tsuru's guidance. While it wasn't exactly _good_ that Baccara bumped into Doflamingo, it was a relief he only bumped into _one_.

Baccara was still laughing, clutching his stomach and head bowed. Lucci had migrated from sitting on the side to letting the Marine Captain sit halfway onto his lap, arms snaking around the other as he muttered something in his ears, which made him laugh _louder_.

Dory had a feeling he should stop the feline Zoan from saying anything more (because he's friends with _Hattori_ , resident blackmailer and camera-man. Bird. Camera-bird), but Baccara looked livelier than he'd ever seen him these past few days, and relented.

He'll regret this decision, but not now.

Though... he didn't know Baccara had amnesia.

( _Was it really amnesia, though?_ )

Ignoring the Allosaurus, he let a smile sneak its way to his face at the sight of his team being the dorks they were.

This was... nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, I know. But I blame exams week. Though I gotta say, I'm a bit nervous on you guys' reactions to Baccara's laugh.
> 
> More questions!
> 
> How come Lucci's friendlier here?
> 
> He's eighteen, and I'm pretty sure the first part of this chapter explained some of his thoughts. Also, I used Pudding as a base when writing him. My cat, named Pudding, not Sanji's murder-wife.
> 
> Wonder what's gonna happen when the CP-9 inevitably go to Water 7 for Pluto...
> 
> Chaos. Also, the fruition of Lucci and Paulie's romcom.
> 
> I read from your tags that Kizaru would spoil Baccara? Which is? Actually pretty in-character for him. Not sure how they'd get close enough to warrant gift-buying/spoiling, but from your track record, I wouldn't be surprised if you pulled it off.
> 
> Akskskssksmam thank you! And yes, I'm looking forward to writing that part as well.
> 
> Ya know, I just finished Dressrosa, and reading this (for what's like the third time) I just noticed something...
> 
> KOEN GOT DRESSROSA'D.
> 
> ...HOLY SHIT you're right!
> 
> Underground group helping the protagonist? Check. Country not being all it seems at first glance? Check. Mysterious legendary figure? Check. Accident that cemented the protagonist's status as a hero to the natives of the country? Check. Earning followers and not knowing? Check.
> 
> Which, what the fuck. I'm dumbfounded. Brain, what did you do?
> 
> When's Doffy gonna show up again? : (
> 
> Not soon. This is prolly gonna be slow-burn, now that I think about it.
> 
> Do you know what a Boop is? If so, Boop!
> 
> Oh! Random facts, right? Well... Baccara's English voice would be Tom Hiddleston (aka MCU's Loki), and his Japanese voice would be Mafumafu (an Utaite I love to bits).
> 
> You can send Boops on my tumblr account, too! (nyd-needs-cuddles)
> 
> WHO'S THE WOMAN IN BACCARA'S FLASHBACKS?
> 
> Guess ;)
> 
> And that's all! Gotta go take my CLE exam now... wish me luck ^^;

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is crossposted in ffnet. under the same name, so if you think this was copied by someone not the author then you are mistaken. Thank you!


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